A Little More
by Natalie Rushman
Summary: Frigga is many things. Warrior. Wife. Queen. Mother. She became all she ever hoped. The road was never straight, but, then, she'd never asked it to be. A possible explanation of Frigga's past. Centuries pre-Thor through The Dark World. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**So, part II of my latest experiment. Designed to either be read alone or as a companion to 'Little Lion Man'. If my attempt is successful, it should be just as good on its own.  
**

 **Will be updating both this, and 'Little Lion Man' chronologically. So, there will be a few days between most updates.**

 **For those of you joining the quest later that my release dates, I will be putting up a list of chapters (of all the stories from this adventure) in their proper chronology on my profile page once I know better what that chronology is gonna look like.**

 **-Oh. And the title is from that of a 'Skillet' song. Very worth the listen. Found it by accident when I was looking for this one's title and thought it in-character.**

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She was raised by Bilig, chief lord of the lowlands and the coast all along the northwestern parts of Vanaheim amid a riot of cousins and friends as near as kin. She was a shield maiden, proven time and again in attacks from the marsh trolls and barrows who plagued her father's people until they were finally driven back for good and all. She was wooed and won in the pride of her youth by a stranger. A traveling warrior, poet, and mage. A fearless man with flashing blue eyes and a quick sword.

He was a prince. The crown prince. Heir apparent to the throne of Asgard, and the title of AllFather, beside.

She was thunderstruck to hear it.

She'd been wed to him for near to three years, knowing him only as Bolverk Vegtam, a warrior errant who had come to her father's halls in the chieftain's time of need and had aided powerfully in the saving of her people.

She'd hated him, at first. Hated him and his bold pursuit of her. But he was brave, and as they fought side by side, as they worked to salvage the wounded and to rebuild her home, she saw the gentleness in his hands and the kindness that would abruptly shine through the flash and flame of his blue eyes and her heart was changed. And when he had returned years later to her father's dun, she did not refuse him.

But his name was strange to her.

Odin.

Prince. The crown prince. Heir apparent to the throne of Asgard. Someday AllFather.

She shut herself into her rooms and locked the door behind her and stood, trembling with her back pressed to the firm solidity of the wall and her hands splayed flat against it. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gulps.

His father had come. Bor, the AllFather, King of Asgard and Lord of all Nine Realms. He'd come, furious, having heard rumors of his wayward son, lost across the years. Her father had not known why it was he had come. Her father's messengers had come flying before the AllFather, panting that he was come, they knew not why and the house had flown all into a flurry of preparation.

Bor had come, cordial and frightening and Frigga had stayed back by the wall. She didn't know where her husband had gone, but she sorely missed him. Many things she had faced, but Bor frightened her, with his great, horned helmet and his stern eyes. She had heard tales of the things he had done to her people in the Wars gone by – they all had – and no one knew what now he wanted.

He sought his son. Odin. A man travelling in disguise. A wandering warrior who would have come some time hence. His spies had found him here, a man going by the name Bolverk.

And Frigga's heart had stopped.

She'd fled in fury to her rooms.

He'd lied to her. He'd _lied_ to her. All this time, he'd confessed his love, he'd pursued her, he'd _won_ her, and all that time he'd _lied_.

And Norns, _Norns_ , that wasn't even all of it. She was, by wedded right, a queen.

She was second daughter to her father, at his death the right of rule would go to Saga and she was _glad_. She'd always been glad. She'd never wanted a throne. She'd known she might marry into one, but she had never thought she would. To be pulled away from her father and all of her family… She'd always imagined she'd wed some lord's son or some warrior, and remain here, and raise her family where she had grown up, by the sea and the grasslands.

Queen.

Queen, and one day, _AllMother_.

She pressed her eyes tight closed.

 _How could you?_

When the knock came she shot to her feet. Ignoring the tear-tracks still on her face she went to the door. She didn't open it, but leaned her shoulder against the wood.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Frigga,"

Her arms pulled protectively about her ribs. "What."

An almost _aggravated_ sigh, "Frigga, I want to talk to you,"

"I'm sure you do." In spite of her will, her voice wavered.

"Frigga," he said, then, softer, "I'm sorry,"

"You _ought to be_ ," but that was all she could say. Tears spilled hot and wet down her cheek and she caught her lip in her teeth. She didn't want him to know. Even now she didn't want him to see her like this.

"Frigga," he said, "Please, I only want to talk to you, let me in."

She shook her head, and she went back into her room.

After a while, he gave it up and he went away.

The next knock came perhaps an hour later. It was lower down on the door, and, wordlessly, Frigga opened it.

Siofna was there – her tiny niece. She put out her little arms and Frigga scooped her up. She buried her face in the little girl's warm, blond curls that smelled of fresh air and sunshine and held her tight. Then they sat together on Frigga's bed, with the door slightly ajar and Siofna on her lap. Frigga knew, wearily, that the child was little more than an emissary, sent by her sister. And part of her found some way to be glad of it. She sorely needed counsel.

Frigga petted the little girl's head and asked her about her day and the games she had played and Siofna told her all in her soft, tiny voice.

Saga wasn't far behind her daughter. Ever since their mother's death all those years ago, Saga had been as a mother to Frigga – to all of them. She would make a great queen.

Saga's eyes were gentle and she shut the door quietly behind her. Then she came and sat down on the bed beside her. Siofna was still talking and Frigga wouldn't look at Saga. She hugged the little girl about the middle. Saga didn't interrupt, she sat quietly and stroked Frigga's hair until the little one had quieted.

Siofna had taken a little doll from the pocket of her dress to show Frigga, and she was murmuring to herself as she straightened the tiny thing's skirts.

"You will have to face him," Saga said softly.

"I can't," Frigga hugged the little one till she squirmed, "I can't."

"You must," Saga told her implacably, "You are his wife."

"But Saga –"

"I know," she said. "What he did to you is unpardonable. But it is up to you what to do next."

"Saga," she said, "A queen? AllMother? I…" her voice failed her and she whispered, "I _can't_ ,"

Saga turned to face her and her grey eyes softened. She smeared away the tears on Frigga's face with her thumb. "Then tell him so."

She chocked on a sob, "But don't you _see_?" she managed, "Saga, I _love_ him. Even after…" she couldn't bear Saga's eyes any longer. She turned away, resting her chin on the child's head, "I love him, even so."

"I know," Saga said. She stroked Frigga's hair. "I knew you would not have wed him otherwise."

"But Saga," she said, "I _can't do it_. Asgard?" she shook her head, "If it was _here…_ "

"Listen to yourself," Saga scoffed, "Is this _my_ sister?"

"Saga –"

"No," she took Frigga's hand from about the child and pressed it.

Siofna squirmed away.

"No, you listen to me," she pressed her hand until Frigga finally looked at her again, "If anyone has it in them to be a great queen, it is you."

"Saga,"

She traced a gentle hand down the side of Frigga's face, "Shh," she said, "Mother would have been so proud of you,"

Frigga sobbed.

"Come here,"

After a time, when Frigga had drawn back, Saga kissed her brow.

Siofna squirmed beside her, putting up one dimpled knee to scramble onto her lap.

"You should go to him," Saga said as she rose, "I didn't know he could look so distraught."

"Believe me," Frigga shifted the child, swallowing back the last of her shuddering breaths. "It'll be worse for him yet."

Saga laughed, "There's my sister," she paused in the doorway, "To be frank," she said, "I prefer him this way. 'Odin' is a more respectable name."

"Mm," Frigga buried her nose in the child's soft fair hair.

Siofna laughed, suddenly aware of the conversation, "O-din?" she turned about, grinning up at Frigga, "Who's O-din?"

Frigga traced a golden curl from the child's face and tucked it behind her ear, "We're going to have to wait and see."

Saga was still there, watching the two of them. "You will do well, Sister," she said. Her face was soft and gentle and she looked so like their mother, "You will be a great queen."


	2. Chapter 2

Asgard was nothing that Frigga had imagined. There were people everywhere. They were caked with mud or covered in gems, all busy about their tasks, and few of them smiled.

It was not as was Vanaheim. In Vanaheim a stranger would be welcomed with open arms. In Asgard, it was as though she was an insect, not worth the attention of those with whom she had come to live.

They starred at her as she stood, arrayed in gold with her hair piled high on her head and amber drops dangling from her ears, before them to watch as her husband – their wayward prince – was crowned King.

They starred and they whispered, but there was none that offered friendship or spoke to her as though she were welcome among them.

In her home, she had been surrounded by a fraction of the people who lived beside her now, but there, they had been friends and kin, none without a fair word, even to a stranger. Here, it was as good as if she were alone.

In those first days as she explored the City and the Palace, she made many false steps, but there were none she had any desire to ask to show her how things were here. She wanted to learn on her own.

She found solace in the palace gardens that had belonged to Odin's mother.

The former queen had passed while Odin had been away, and while they had not parted well, they had once been close, and she knew he grieved.

Frigga wandered the gardens, and she made them her own.

Odin, she knew, was unhappy.

His father, he hated. Bor craved war and conquest above all else, and his motives were abhorrent to his son. They had never agreed.

He was as lonesome as she. She could see it behind his proud stance and in the depth of his blue eyes. She could not leave him so unaided. She did not hold long onto her anger.

She missed her home and her family. But she did not regret her decision.

She would yet learn the way of this place.

She would have to, being its queen.

She had been raised a warrior.

Asgard would be her home now.


	3. Chapter 3

As the years passed she heard the whispers. Heard the mockery of her people. The Vanir were known for their large families, so why could not the young queen provide the king with an heir?

But there was time and enough left for that.

Eir, the young Healing Mistress, hadn't much to say when Frigga went to her with her questions, so Frigga put it out of her mind. All would be as the Norns decreed, with her fretting or no. And Odin needed her to be strong. His father was unruly as ever, and discontent with his son opposed to his every wish. A day did not pass when the two of them were together that they did not fight.

Years passed and things did not become any better. Odin was needed more by his father to carry the duties of the Realm and Frigga was left more and more alone.

She told herself time and again that all was well. That she wanted for nothing.

But she sorely wanted a child.

She slept and she dreamed of the future she'd thought to have as a girl. She dreamed of her own sisters, their children playing alongside hers. Laughing, beautiful children. And she woke angry and disconsolate.

She did her best to hide it from her husband. He had enough to worry him.

But it had been so long, and the idea that he might have to get an heir on another woman made her writhe.

She was daughter of Bilig, chief lord of the lowlands and the coast all along the northwestern parts of Vanaheim. She was a shield maiden, proved time and again. She'd defended her home countless times in attack and repaired the damage to her people and their land with her own hands.

So why was it she could not do this one thing?

She tried what few things Eir knew to tell her. She stooped to what magics she knew.

And then she gave up.

Plagued and wearied by the conflicts across realms and the suffering of his people whom he was all but powerless to help, Odin fell into the OdinSleep. Frigga did not understand it, but she sat beside him. She held his hand through all the days he slept as Eir told her to do, and she spoke to him. Everything that had weighted on her heart all the past years came up her throat and she gave them voice to his sleeping ears. What was the cost? He could hear nothing of her. No harm could be done.

But then he woke. He woke and he told her, a few days later, holding her hand and walking through the dusk of one of her favorite gardens, all that he had heard her say.

He promised that he loved her. Told her he'd wed her for love, not for a son. She heard him, and she loved him for saying it, but it did not lift the dark that had slipped little by little over her heart.

It reached a point in those months that she did not desire food. She did little other than sleep. She knew that Odin worried after her, but she could not make herself rise. Finally, she began to be sick and he demanded she go to the Healers. She refused and it was the first time he raised his voice at her.

Meekly, she went. She did all that Eir told her to do.

And Odin unveiled a gift. A long-owed wedding present, he told her.

A palace that was to be hers, on the coastland, where Asgard looked most like her home.

Fensalir. The 'Sea Palace.'

They stayed together at Fensalir until the winter winds made its airy corridors unpleasantly cold.

Frigga loved it.

As the mild winters that Asgard boasted loosed what little hold they had each spring, Frigga would grow more and more excited, and as soon as the weather gave out into the summer she and Odin would go together back to Fensalir. Sometimes he could not stay, or he had work, but she amused herself quite well with her books and with the gentle slope of the coastline. She loved to leave her shoes and go out to wander the wavering paths carved in the sand, left by the receding tide and the wind.

She loved the time away from the customs and the people she was only beginning to understand, and the time far from the reproachful eye of the AllFather.

Sometimes, Odin would let her help him in his work, to speed them in their going or to lengthen their stay. And she felt proud to be his wife.

It was just as she had begun to accept that all would be as it had been long ago decreed, that Eir imparted her discovery to the young queen.

When Eir told her, her blood went cold.

Without knowing what it was she did, she got up and went to Odin's study. She didn't notice the men who fell silent and who bowed respectfully to him as he caught sight of her face and waved them out.

"I'm," she said. She was trembling and cold. Her heart beat high and fast and she felt that she might collapse.

The door closed behind the last of the men, and the sound of it startled her.

Odin stood quickly, his face creased with ever-more-present care. He came around his desk and took firm hold of her arms.

"I'm with child," she whispered.

He looked startled, then, all in a rush the worry washed out of his face and he was smiling at her and she was laughing and crying in equal measure and Odin had his strong arms around her and she was kissing him.

He held her hand months later when Eir looked to be sure all was well with her and with the babe. It was a son, she said. The Realm had an heir. Frigga blinked tear-filled eyes at her husband. He was watching the image of the babe Eir had brought up in the Soul Forge and his blue eyes shone. She pressed his hand and he smiled down at her.

The birth was difficult. Odin paced outside of the closed door and Eir's face was drawn. It was taking over long and the labor was too hard.

She'd been a warrior in her time. A Shield Maid unrivalled in her father's dun. To fail now…

She'd brought this child into existence. She alone could bring him into the world. He was relying on her and she would not fail him.

He greeted the world with a great cry.

"Healthy lungs," Eir said. "This one will be strong."

Frigga nodded, spent beyond telling.

She was surprised by his strong kicking when he was put finally into her arms. He howled, furious to be thrust from the warmth and dark of her womb into the cold of the outer world. He sucked fiercely. So hungry and strong and yet so fragile and reliant on her. Only she could properly care for him. She was his mother.

He was beautiful beyond telling.

Her little one.

Son of Odin.

Thor.

It took her too long to heal from it.

Eir told her in her no-nonsense way that to have another child might very well kill her and she wept, but she determined that she would be contented with the son the Norns had seen fit to grant her. He was strong and beautiful. Perfect.

He would make the Realm a fitting heir.


	4. Chapter 4

The second child, when Thor was just beginning to toddle around, was a surprise.

Hope blossomed fearful and sharp in her chest.

Hostilities had gathered and burst forth with Jotunheim some months before. And it was not some little difficulty that could be brushed aside as so many of Bor's confrontations were. The Jotnar bore a deep-set hatred for Asgard and her dominions. The heart of their Realm, The Casket of Eternal Winters, had breathed life into the frozen wastes of their land for time out of mind. But now their young and brash king, Laufey, would use it for a weapon.

Gravely, Odin spoke of a prophecy that told how the Casket's use could spawn Ragnarok itself.

So, kissing her tenderly and ruffling the hair of his bold young son, Odin had ridden out after his father.

Watching him go, she was afraid, and she held tightly to her little son.

Their second child was conceived during a visit he made to her during all the years of war. It seemed the war would go on for all time and she longed for him to be home with her. For him to take the weight of the realm from her shoulders.

Bor was wiser in his old age than he had been, wiser in time of crisis than ever he had been in time of peace. His counsel during wartime was not to be discounted.

The sharp joy she felt ached behind her breast.

But the child did not survive to term and the bringing forth of that one all-but killed her.

The knowledge of the little son who needed his mother and the king who needed his queen was the only thing that brought her through.

Physically weak, she survived, but she'd been broken deep within her and there was no way through the darkness that clouded her thoughts for many long months. Odin knew naught of her plight, of the depth of the night that all but overwhelmed her. She pretended for his sake, for that of their son – Thor, the tiny golden light who gave her her reason to keep on.

She knew she had to pull herself from the grasp of the darkness. Hostilities were far from done with Jotunheim, and her King needed to know he could rely on the strength of his queen. So it was with a grim kind of strength that she'd rallied herself and taken up all of her old duties, those of queen and more. The young King must be free to ride out with his father to defend the Realms without fear for his wife and his son. She would have to be strong.

If she could not overcome this, then she was unworthy of her station and her upbringing.

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It was too long. _Years_ with only vague sightings of her Lord. Bor was slain. The Frost Giants lacked the strength to bring the front to Asgard, but not to Midgard, and the people there were in grave danger. Odin drove the giants back to their Realm, and finally, _finally_ , news had come that he'd broken their spirit and they would surrender.

Her little son needed his father.

And Odin returned to her, lacking an eye, but bearing within his arms a stolen relic.

She'd been warned of his wound, but even that foreknowledge hadn't quite prepared her for it.

"Odin," she said. Her fingertips hovered above his brow and tears stung her eyes.

She was still reeling, when she noticed what it was that he held.

"I know how much you wanted another," he said, showing the child, "He could be of value to us in the time to come."

And she slapped him.

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 **It started - ALL of this started, to be frank – with me wondering what would have happened if, during 'Thor', they'd kept the post-banishment/pre-vault scene between Odin and Frigga, where Frigga confronted Odin about Thor's punishment. What would have happened if, at the end of the scene, Frigga had asked Odin where he was going, and he stopped, sighed, and told her that he was certain Loki suspected their secret, and that he was going to talk to him. Then Frigga would have gone up to him, put her hand on his arm and said, 'let me do it.'**

 **In my head, when Loki demanded an answer from** _ **her**_ **, I imagined that she would have sat down on the steps, and told him to come and sit with her. Then she would have told him a story.**

 **That was where I got stumped.**

 **If Frigga and Loki were both the kind of characters I believed them to be, what story a.) would Frigga tell, and b.) would Loki believe?**

 **And that's where this came from.**

 **All this, "I took you because you were helpless," sounds like a lot of shit. No matter how true it might have been, it doesn't** _ **sound**_ **true. I thought this was more realistic, and, as much as it might be harder to hear, I thought he'd probably appreciate her honesty, and that would** _ **probably**_ **change the entire course of the movie from that point out.**

 **I** _ **may**_ **still write that. But I have a lot of other things that want writing, and once I started that, I feel like I'd have to finish it, and then it would be a multi-chapter thing, just to prove that Frigga was better at communications than Odin. And was that even a question?**

 **More on the morrow.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I imagine Thor and Loki about the equivalent of two years apart in age. They just age differently – being near-on immortal beings. So, Thor's presenting as being about 3.**

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For a week after his return she refused any contact. She had just begun to find her feet, find her strength, and he brought her one of _their_ children? What of the child's mother? What of _their_ child? Was their child not good enough that he had to _kidnap_ those of another realm? Kidnap a _giant's_ brat? Better that the child had been his with another woman! Then _at least_ she would have known the offer wasn't made out of _pity_.

But Odin had his ways. He left the child with a wet nurse and he asked to take Thor – not to visit the babe he'd _stolen –_ as she had expressly forbidden it – but merely for a walk about the palace. It was the single request he'd made of her in that week that she deigned answer at all. And only then, for the sake of her little, golden-haired boy. Thor needed his father. And he was still so young.

The two spoke of many things together on their walk. Thor was just beginning to be old enough to keep up a conversation and it had been some time since the rambunctious child had had time with his father. When he came to see her afterward he clambered up on her lap to hug her.

"What did you and your father do today?" she asked him. She smiled fondly at his squirming and she balanced him with her hands so he wouldn't fall onto the floor. A heady breeze blew through the open windows.

"We talked like grown-up men!" Thor beamed. He rocked back on her lap holding to the front of her dress for balance. Then he caught his lower lip in his teeth as was his childish way when he wondered things. He looked all around the room. Then he stilled and his brows came down very seriously over his little nose.

She laughed at him, tapping the end of it.

Grinning, he pawed her hand away.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked.

"Amma," he said, very seriously, "Can I have a b'other?"

Something icy clamped tight in her chest and she tried not to show it to the boy, "What a strange thing to ask, Thor," she said, lightly. "Wherever did you get such an idea?"

He rocked back and forth on her lap, back and forth until, a little sharply, she stilled him.

"Adda had b'overs." Thor told her. "He told me 'bout 'em. S'ord b'overs."

"Did he. Well. That was different."

Thor nodded. "I asked him if I could have one. "'E said," the little boy arched back, puffing out his chest as he tried to imitate his father's voice, "'It's Amma's choosin'.'" Then he laughed, snuggling up against her only to rock back with a hand clapped over his eye, "Adda's got this too, Amma."

"He does."

"Can I –"

"No Thor," she said. "You cannot have one. I think it's time you went out for a while. Have you played with Freki yet, today?"

The boy's eyes lit up at the name of his father's great hound and he squirmed down from her lap to the hand of his waiting nurse.

Gathering her skirt in one hand, Frigga strode purposefully to Odin's study, opened the door without knocking and waited there, eyes blazing, for his notice.

He was alone. Though she would not at all have minded if she had interrupted affairs of state.

Finally – and she could swear he was laughing at her – he looked up. "My Queen,"

But she gave him no time to finish, "How _dare_ you?"

"How dare I –"

"Do _not_ ," she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, "pretend," opened them again, "that you do not know of what I speak. You would send our son to me –"

"I might have ordered you to raise him." Odin pointed out. He laid aside the pen in his hand with a definitive little gesture and looked up at her out of his one remaining eye. The sight twisted something in her strangely. "But I would rather have you willing."

She pushed the nagging ache away, "So you send our son? You excite him with ideas of what can never be and have him come to me, knowing how much I –" her voice failed her and she turned furiously from him.

Odin rose. He came around the great desk until he stood behind her. Very gently he touched her shoulder with the back of his hand. Such a tender caress. It had been so long since he had been home.

"You would not speak to _me_ ," he said lowly, sounding soft and hurt and she turned.

"But you took him," she said, "you took him from his home and from his people. What of _his_ mother?"

"The Queen of Asgard worries after a giant?"

"After a mother!"

Tears spilled suddenly hot on her cheeks and she closed her eyes against them. She felt Odin's hand tighten on her shoulder, felt the rough pad of his thumb wipe at her eyes, and she did nothing to drive him off.

"Worry not after that, my Queen," Odin murmured. "He was left by his people to die."

She drew inadvertently back and Odin nodded.

"Too small for his kind, he was left to die on the temple stair, where I discovered him, a child, dying for need of a mother's love." He held out his hands, took hers. "And within my own home I had left a mother, dying for the need of a child."

Frigga shook him from her hands. "Our son was enough for me."

Odin's eye flashed and he gave her a smile tinged with bitterness, "Our son was never enough for you."

He stepped back toward his desk. "Or either for himself," he continued, lighter. "You've seen how he is already. How is it to be with him as he grows? The boy needs one to counter his force, to balance him."

"Why must there be the tie of blood?" she challenged, "Will not a friend do this?"

"No. Only 'the tie of blood' will be enough to make the other stay."

Quick flare of anger, revulsion. "Such hope, _AllFather_ ," she snapped. "Such belief in your own son!"

"Do you not see it as the truth?"

"I see a bare infant yet, with years left to learn, and already you turn your back on him!"

"Perchance I am wrong, Frigga," and Odin shook his great head, spreading his hands, "But I am never wrong. He is too headstrong."

Odin sat back at his desk as though the discussion were done. But Frigga did not leave.

"He takes much after his father," she said lowly.

"Yes." Odin barely looked up, "And you above all know then what must be done."

A flash of anger shot up in her breast and she whirled to the door, but stopped herself suddenly with one hand to the frame. The pressure of her magic tingled in the tips of her fingers, and she stilled herself until she felt it dissipate. She inhaled through her nose so that it hurt in her lungs. Then she let it out and she spoke over her shoulder.

"I will take the boy," she said. "But know that it is not for you, _AllFather_ , and for none of your dire predictions. It is for our son and the joy I know they might share. A joy I know I cannot otherwise bring him. And for that alone."

This time Odin did not look up at all. She could tell it by his voice. She could hear in it how he laughed at her as he answered, and her hand tightened on the frame of the door.

"And I trust you will get no joy out of it," he mocked.

"Nor you either," she spat.

And she left.

She went to the nursery where the monster-child Odin had stolen was being kept.

She sent the old nurse out and, locking the door she down sat beside the cradle where the child lay, sleeping. Pale as any Aesir. Warm to her wandering finger's touch.

She drew her hand back to herself.

Watching him, she felt nothing. All the anger had left her.

And she waited.

She'd told the woman she might as well use the cradle, when she'd come timidly in to ask it of her the week before. Why not? The AllFather thought so little of his home as to bring in a monster-child and demand its keeping. Why not allow the creature into the very heart of her desires? All the sacred places where she had had such dreams. Such foolish, foolish dreams…

She didn't know how long she sat watching the child sleep with her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped tightly before her and her thoughts errant, before the little one woke. The brightest color of green she had ever seen in a person's eyes greeted her, and she sat straight on the chair, her heart beating a little too fast, as though she'd been caught doing wrong. Something about his eyes, and the way he looked at her for that one, long, drawn-out moment, changed him before her. He was alive, just as she was.

He blinked owlishly at her for several minutes as she watched, then his little lips pressed together and turned down as he began to cry.

Awkwardly, not knowing really what else to do, she put out her hands to pick him up. She knew the way of it, Thor had been hers and it was only in the most recent time that she had come so completely to rely on his nurse. In the past she had done well. Even through the darkness she'd managed to play with him. To talk to him. To engage him. To care for his needs. She was his mother and she would _be_ that. But with Odin away and the whole of the regency on her shoulders…

This time it was different. This child was different. Neither of her blood nor of her kind. Distantly, uncertainly, she regarded him.

Throwing out little searching arms, the child caught a lock of her hair and he pulled. With a frustrated catch of breath she drew him close, lay him on her knees and bent double to untangle his fingers. When she'd managed it she looked at him again and saw that her long hair had fallen into his face. It was tickling him and he smiled toothlessly at it, green, green eyes screwed shut.

Surely a monster-child couldn't smile so simply. They suckled blood and death, rejoicing at the things of the grave.

But why should they? The thought hit her forcefully and it startled her. Why should they. Why should they not laugh and love and live and grow just as any of her own people? What was it that made his kind monster? Had they not minds and hearts just as she? Could this one not be taught another way?

She held him up the better to see him. Soft round cheeks, pale skin. He smiled at her, dimpling his little face and she wept. Wept that she could be so blind, so proud and cold. She held the little one against her as she wept and when he began to root against her for milk she fumbled her hand across the low table to the bottle the nurse had indicated before she'd left. She held the little one against her as she pressed the nipple into his little searching mouth.

He blinked up at her over the top of it and, wiping the tears off her face, she knew that nothing could ever be the same again.

She went away that night, with the babe. It was high summer and she took him away with her to Fensalir. She'd kept him a secret, telling Thor that she would return in a few days and leaving the unconcerned boy with his nurse. A part of her had protested that she should not go, she should not leave him. But she needed to better know his brother, if such the little one was to be.

And, truth be told, Thor was unlikely to miss her. He was such an independent little thing.

She had not told Odin of her leaving. And that did not trouble her.

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 **Part-Two, being the better half of what I think has to be my favorite chapter. The idea that Frigga might not have accepted a foundling jotun with open arms was really what spawned this whole thing, and I've only seen it approached once before. (I don't spend a LOT of time reading fanfiction, so perhaps I'm only ignorant of others.) In that fic, she was just mad because she thought Odin had had an affair and was asking her to raise the child that came from it, but then when she found out the truth, she was fine with it. I'm not sure I'd be fine with it.**

 **But there it is.**

 **It's not really part of anything, but I heard about the shooting in Vegas last night. Not a good record to break. My prayers go out to everyone involved.**


	6. Chapter 6

Years later she would remember those long nights, lying awake with the little one nestled to her bare skin in the dark as she fed him. She could not nurse him as a mother ought, but she could give him the warmth and comfort of it, at least. Children wanted the warmth of skin. Wanted to hear the beat of their mother's heart as they gave suck. She thought how afraid he must be, to be torn from his mother. From his home and his kind. From his very realm.

She would lay there, propped on her elbow with her forehead cradled in her palm, the little one nestled against her where she could feel the warm of his skin, the rise and fall of every breath. Odd that he should be _warm_. She suckled him from the bottle she'd taken with her and watched him as he slept. So peaceful, the little one. Untroubled by the worries that plagued her.

After a week her conscience began truly to prick at her and she sent to the city for Thor to be brought to join them.

The boy had come, overjoyed to find that Amma _had_ consented, and he was to have a brother after all.

Two months they stayed at Fensalir, the three of them together, lulled by the lap of the waves on the shore and the lazy wind blowing through the tall grasses. Two months, until the wind blew more sharply and the waves growled in their sleep. Then, and only then, did she think to return home.


	7. Chapter 7

Odin came out to meet her on his black stallion.

He was alone.

His armor – what little he wore – flashed golden in the sunlight.

Thor ran to him and met him as he swung from his great horse. He jumped and laughed as Odin swept him from his feet. Boisterous little thing that he was, Thor tried to tell his father everything all in one chattering breath.

Setting the excited boy down, Odin went to where Frigga was just alighting from the cart, the little one nestled, sleeping, against her breast.

Watching the sleeping child, Odin had stopped before her and he drew breath as though to speak.

She spoke before he could, tipping her chin up. "His name is Loki," she told him.

Odin's eye moved from the child's face, to hers. And for one moment, he watched her levelly.

"A fine name," he decided.

He leaned inward as though in caress, putting his free hand about her shoulders. He murmured, "Am I forgiven, then?"

He brushed her cheek with a kiss as he drew gently back.

Thor was chattering, dancing around the patient horse's great hooves.

Frigga returned his look, saying in a tone to match his own, "Do you feel remorse?" and she felt herself smile, just a bit.

His eye searched her, then faltered in what would have been a cunning show of regret if she did not believe it felt, "For the insult my action offered my queen?" he met her eyes again, "Yes."

And she believed him. She felt a smile tug at her mouth and she let it come. "Then for that, AllFather, you are forgiven."

She kissed him then, and allowed him to lead her back into the palace, listening to him as he told her all that had transpired while she was away, scolding Thor to come along and for _heaven's_ sake to let the dog _be!_

The naming ceremony was held several days later, and their second son was officially welcomed into the royal family of Asgard as Thor and Odin and his father had all been before him. Officially given their name and announced a part of their great lineage. And she had felt it right.

Word had spread that she had conceived the child in one of Odin's sporadic visits during the war. And that the regency had taken such a toll on her that she had felt it necessary to go away for a while to ready for the birth of the child. Everyone knew of the difficulty Thor's coming had caused her, how nearly she had been brushed by Death, and none questioned the validity of the tale. That she'd chosen to stay in her Sea Palace through the younger prince's birth and her recovery came as no surprise to them.

She let the tales spread. He was hers, was he not? Let them talk as they would.

She remembered, years later, taking him into the nursery that night, after the ceremony, laying him in the cradle where only months before it had seemed absolute sacrilege to place him. Intending to leave as quickly as she'd come to return to the celebrations below.

Instead, she had stayed, wondering a little, to watch over him as he slept.

And she knew in that moment beyond any accusation that he was hers now. Hers every bit as much as Thor was. And that there was no force in the Nine strong enough to sever that bond.


	8. Chapter 8

**Kindof a montage chapter. Frigga's going to have a few of those now, where not a lot that's specific happens, but progress is tracked. She has little boys to watch grow up.**

 **Like I think I said earlier, I imagine Thor and Loki to be about 2-3 years apart. Far enough that you can get** _ **some**_ **hero-worship, close enough for the rivalry. So they're in the 1-5 year-old range here.**

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Frigga did not know what she had done with her time before she'd had two sons. Once Loki had learned to walk she'd been forced by her duties to pass over the majority of his supervision to Thor's nurse, Saxa. She was a sweet girl, quite capable.

But she came to Frigga some months later and said that this could not go on. Together, the boys were too much for her.

Frigga was not overly surprised.

They were a pair, her little sons, even as young as they were. She ought to have thought to find another girl to help with them.

Thor would laugh and plow around. He always wanted to be outside, and he was constantly chasing after danger. Twice, he'd slipped his nursemaid's watch and been found atop a horse in the stables, trying to devise a way to undo the gate. The second time, he'd been preparing to jump it.

Loki was his equal in exuberance, if his inferior in skill. It frustrated him beyond measure that he could not keep up with his brother, and he often was led into dangerous situations by his single-minded quest to keep pace with him. Thor, for his part, was sweet to him. It was only on few willful occasions that he plowed past the younger child or ignored him.

Hesitatingly, Loki was learning to talk. He was sensitive to frustration, Frigga learned. Often she would misunderstand him and it would lead in mere moments to a tantrum. She learned better than to try and pick him up, in those moments. Thor had been given to fits of rage too, but Thor's were easily calmed. She would pick him up and carry him away from whatever had bothered him, and in moments he'd be himself. Loki was not like that. He would hit and writhe and, if not put down, he would bite. So, she learned to leave him. She would stay nearby and sit quietly, reading or working at some small thing until finally he would begin to recover himself. He would pick himself up off the floor and come over, with tears all over his little round cheeks and his lip stuck out. He would climb up onto her lap and put his arms all the way round her neck. Sometimes it would take him as long as a quarter of an hour to recover himself fully, but she didn't mind it. The respite from her duties was good for her state of mind.

She had been afraid, at one time, that the boys would have a great deal of trouble communicating, but that fear was short-lived. Often when she was with them, she saw Thor getting down on his knees, bending the better to see Loki's face, asking him to say something again so he could understand it. And, usually, suspiciously watching his brother from under tiny down-drawn brows, Loki would repeat himself.

The smile on his face when Thor understood him was stunning and complete, and it would make his elder brother laugh.

"He's so happy, Amma!" Thor giggled on one of those times.

Frigga smiled fondly at the two of them, "He likes you to understand him," she said.

Moments like those she learned to cherish. She knew her sons could not stay as precious as this forever.


	9. Chapter 9

**They're about the same age here as they are in that little scene at the beginning of** _ **Thor**_ **. Maybe 5-7-ish?**

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Thor was getting tall. His height would be great once he was grown.

He disliked the written aspects of his schooling. The martial, however, he enjoyed immensely. He was quick to gather friends from his classes, but it seemed to Frigga that it didn't much matter to him which of those he kept. That they followed him in his wandering did not seem to matter overly to him. He interchanged them frequently.

Loki was his sole constant companion.

Which, to her mind, was as sweet as it could be troubling.

She could not number the times her boys came home, Thor with some scratch and Loki battered because he had had only the determination and not the strength or experience to keep up with his brother.

Thor was but a child, he did not think of such things, and she did not expect it of him. Enough, she thought, that he allowed his little brother leave to accompany him all places.

She spoke to Odin of her concerns. Not only was Thor advanced for his age and Loki's elder, Loki was small and often sick. She feared that his true heritage might yet take its toll on him and she wondered if Eir should be made known of it.

But Odin told her her fears were vain. He would do well. These little sicknesses now would teach him not to succumb to greater ones later. And similarly he spoke of the little boy's challenges. He would be so much the stronger for them once he was grown.

Frigga did not know that she agreed in whole. She tried to interest Loki in other things. And while he'd always enjoyed her company and her tales more than Thor had, such draws could not always keep him penned beside her and out of harm's way.

As much as they loved each other, the boys battled. Many times in a day, Frigga would be interrupted in her work by Thor, shouting, flushed red and gesturing angrily and Loki, crying and shouting back at him. Their nurses were at a loss what to do with them when they fought. They would not be distracted.

Wearily she assured the girls that they had gotten _that_ from their father, and they would smile at her in understanding, remembering their own fathers and brothers.

Loki was more prone to grudges than his brother. Once, Frigga found Thor sitting outside of Loki's closed door, with tears rolling down his cheeks, begging Loki to come out. When she'd opened the door, Loki had been equally distraught, squashed into a corner by his bed, hugging his knees and scowling through his tears at the door.

They were a pair, the two of them. Often she wondered where she would be without her boys, and, in the same breath, where they might be without each other.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **If you like things chronological and you've been reading my updates of this and 'Little Lion Man' as I've released them, the first e chapters of 'In the End' would fit in right about here. The next chapter is a bit of a jump in years.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, so, this one is the montage chapter OF my montage chapters. I think it's really the only one. This is one of two prompts a friend gave me months ago to work in. I told her I thought it likely that Loki had anxiety issues, at least as a kid. She asked what I thought that would even look like.**

 **Anyways, ages for this one are AT OLDEST 10/12. I think.**

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When he'd been very small, Loki had laughed and danced and shouted. He would shove and wriggle his way into the center of Frigga's vision. Nothing, it seemed, besides his brother, had made him happier than to have her attention and to make her laugh.

And when Thor had begun to grow more quiet and to draw away from her, she had not minded much. Loki had still wanted her attention. When Thor would disappear, Loki would be in her rooms, sulking at first, upset to have been left behind by his brother, but it would never last long.

It never failed to surprise her, in those days, how much noise Loki could make. He would clatter and run and throw things and a day didn't pass that he hadn't knocked some thing down as he flew through the halls. Not an hour passed that he did not spring out from behind some door or drop down from some rafter to surprise a person.

She did not recall Thor being such a problem. But, perhaps that had been because Thor had preferred to spend his energy out of doors.

Part of the cause of his common illnesses made itself known when his magic manifested. Neither she nor Eir had ever seen it come in such power. And after it had shown itself and regulated to a level she could help him to control, she'd thought she had nothing more to worry over. Surely his magic could only help him as he grew. It could be his the way Thor's power belonged to Thor. They would balance and support one another. It was beautiful in its symmetry.

But Loki did not grow as she had expected. And she did not know why.

It started slowly, with little things that she barely would have noticed but for hindsight.

Hours, when she knew he had been with her, but he had been so silent that she had forgotten him, and he had slipped away, all unnoticed.

Evenings, when he did not care to share with her the places he had been, or tales of what he had done.

Days, when he refused to leave the palace, even when Thor begged him, with no quarrel existing between them.

Times, when he would come to sit with her in her rooms or in her garden. He would not talk. Sometimes he brought a book, but he would not read it.

They were not so uncommon, in their parts.

The first time she truly suspected something was wrong, was when he refused to go out for his lessons. Her first thought was that he was trying to emulate his brother.

The next day, when his refusal remained, she became worried.

He wouldn't come when she sent for him.

Wearily, Frigga got up and went to his rooms. Tapping lightly on his door, she pushed it open. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his head turned to the window and a pensive look on his face.

She knew better than to begin with pleasantries.

"What is it you hide from?" she asked, sitting beside him and ruffling a hand through his dark hair. She wondered if perhaps the children were unkind, or the masters.

She expected perhaps a smile, or some admission. Loki gave neither. He wouldn't look at her and he only shrugged.

Frowning, she touched his forehead.

"I'm not sick," he shrugged her off more roughly than she'd expected. "I just don't want to go."

Hesitantly, she drew her hand back, "Do you have reason, Loki?"

He pressed his lips together.

"Loki," she said, softly, "I cannot help you if I do not know –"

" _I_ don't know!" he shouted.

She blinked at him, startled as he seemed to shrink back in on himself.

"I'll just go," he mumbled. He started to move off the bed.

"Loki," she said. She caught his shoulder and he looked at her with his eyes very green in his face. His expression was utterly blank, and she did not know what to make of it. "If something was truly wrong, you would tell me?"  
Dropping his gaze to the floor, he nodded his head.

Originally, she set it aside as no more than childish oddities. He was himself again when she saw him later that day, laughing as he chased after Thor.

Sometimes, he would refuse to take meals with others. He would have his dinner alone, in his room. She assumed it was only a childhood whim, and one that would do no harm, odd thought it was. It was only when he began to lose his badly needed weight that she became alarmed. Not wanting to upset him, she asked Thor what they did for their midday meal, which was taken when the boys were out at their lessons.

He shrugged and said that he didn't know. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Loki eat with them.

Frigga frowned.

Loki began to ask if he might go to lessons without his brother.

Frigga was startled by it.

It seemed only yesterday that Loki had sulked to be overlooked by Thor.

She did not know what to make of it, so she told him that she would consider it.

"Thor," Loki insisted, "We have to _go_ ,"

"I'll be along in a moment."

Loki was practically vibrating with energy. "We're going to be late."

Thor dismissed him. "I said I'd be along."

Pressing his lips together, Loki did not say anything more. He looked away, and his face was very blank.

As they left, Frigga heard Thor laughing, "What's gotten into you?"

Looking after them, she saw Thor jostle him and Loki shove him off. He didn't smile, and he didn't raise his eyes from the ground.

Loki's reluctance to leave his rooms and interact as he had troubled her. She mentioned it to Odin that afternoon, and Odin brought it up during the evening meal. "Your mother tells me you are reluctant to attend lessons with your brother," he addressed Loki.

Loki had not expected that. His expression wavered, flickering to show something almost fearful before being covered again, hurriedly more blank.

It was so fleeting, that Frigga had only noticed it because she was watching. She wondered briefly what else she might have missed.

"No," Loki said. He didn't look up from his plate.

"Then your mother was mistaken?"  
"Of course she was mistaken!" Thor said indignantly. He turned on her, "Why would you think such a thing?"  
Frigga did not answer, but met his eyes and watched as some kind of understanding settled behind them.

Then she looked past him.

"Maybe because you're always making us late?" Loki suggested, waspishly.

"Well if you want to get there so quickly," Thor rounded on him, scowling, "why don't you go by yourself?"

"Or because you're _loud_ , and you draw every eye in the palace?"

"Then you don't have to hear about my exploits. You know what?" Thor slammed his hands down against the table, "Why don't you go by your little creeping tunnels. The _no one_ will have to look at you."

"Thor!" Frigga said.

Odin stood, "That's enough."

He said it quietly, but it was sufficient to still both boys.

Odin looked first at one, then the other, and then, very slowly, he took his place again.

"Now," he said, "Loki. I had thought to wait and keep you both together, but if you would rather take private instruction, such may be arranged."

Loki was looking at his plate. After a long moment, he gave his head a slight shake.

Frigga put out her hand and touched the back of his.

He pulled his hand away. "I'd rather not change anything," he murmured, glancing quickly at his father, "though I thank you."

Thor scoffed.

Frigga hushed him.

The accidental crashes about the palace ceased, mainly because Loki did not leave his rooms. He drew into himself and he read his books.

Frigga did not make much of it. Instead of waiting for him to visit her in her rooms, she went to his. She would bring a book and her work, and she had Loki read to her. He would grumble, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself, but there was a lightness to it that she didn't often see from him elsewhere, these days. She ignored his grumbling and she continued to come.

Once, when she knocked, she did not receive answer. She tapped again, and when there was still no reply, she pressed the door slowly open. "Loki?"

He hadn't heard her coming. He whirled with his eyes huge in his face.

For one moment, she only looked at him with one hand flown to her mouth. Shock had stolen her tongue and she almost wanted to laugh. Finally, "Loki," she managed, "what have you done?"

That broke the spell. Gulping a breath, he tried to hide all of his head and face in his hands.

"Your hair…" she started.

"Don't _look_ at me!"

"Darling," she softened. "Come here,"

Backing to a chair by his door, she sat down.

Loki came up in front of her, and he took the hands she offered him.

For one long moment, she looked at him.

He looked at the floor next to her foot.

She traced her thumbs along the backs of his hands. "What happened?"

"I want it gone," he whispered. "It's awful."

She traced her fingers through the ends of his hair. He'd tried to make it blonde. As it was now, it was a blotchy mess, part blonde, and part his own natural black. Sections did not appear to know what color they were intended to be.

"It is," she agreed.

He looked at her a little sharply, his eyes wet with tears. He tried to laugh as she smiled at him, but then the tears won out and in an abrupt move he'd crashed against her.

"Shh," she hugged him.

She had him kneel down next to her so she could better reach.

He dropped forward onto her lap and hid his face in his arms.

Quietly, she worked the streaked mess of his hair back to its natural color.

When it was done, she tapped his shoulder.

Taking a shuddering breath, he straightened.

"There," she tapped the end of his nose with one finger the way that had always made him laugh as a little boy, "Handsome as ever." She took both his hands again, "And, what is more, a good bit wiser, I think."

"I'm sorry Amma," he murmured.

"No harm done," she said.

A thousand small changes, a thousand small episodes. All so small that she did not know their true significance. By the time she'd noticed his anxieties, they had gotten to a point that she did not know how to help it. When pressed for explanation, Loki shouted or he cried. And the outbursts only made him more ashamed and miserable.

She learned not push him. She continued to go, offering him her teaching, her company. She didn't know what else to do for him.

Hopefully, it would pass.

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 **If you like things chronological and you've been reading my updates of this and 'Little Lion Man' as I've released them, chapter 9 of 'In the End' would fall somewhere near the end of this one.**


	11. Chapter 11

**12/14 or so, I think.**

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Thor had always been given to sulking.

This though, Frigga thought, was something different.

He was a tall youth, with might that rivaled some of the men, and him just beginning to come into his adult strength. He'd been distraught these past days, moody beyond his usual brooding. Which was odd. When he fought with Loki, she would hear of it, and she had heard nothing.

She went to him.

He was in the training grounds, which were oddly deserted for this time of day. She wondered a touch wryly if, just perhaps, the darkened face of the prince had anything to do with that.

He paced along the outer back wall of the grounds, kicking stones with his boot. Alternatingly folding his arms and flinging them around him, as if the expanse of the movement gave him some release.

She glanced upward to the sky. Thor had displayed symptoms of the strombringers of old. But the storm had not risen to him, this time.

Unfortunately, Thor lacked yet the ability to control his gift. The storm responded to him as he grew more agitated. One day, it would respond to his call. It was unlike Loki's gifts and her own, in that it was not a thing in which she could aid him, more than by advice. And that she was hesitant to give without his asking. Thor did not seek her out the way Loki had once done. When troubled, Thor went off by himself, much as Odin always had, and as Loki was growing to do.

It was to be expected. A boy could not always run to the embrace of his mother. She was glad to see her sons test their strength and their wisdom. It was only that she wished they possessed more of the latter.

But wisdom, as she so often reminded herself, could be gained without experience. And if they would not rely on the experience of others, then they would have to go on that they garnered for themselves. And while it was the harder path, it was not a choice she would begrudge them. It had been the path she had chosen as well.

She remembered her own father, and his weary fondness for her and her headstrong ways. She thought of him often as she interacted these days with her sons.

"You are restless today," she said.

Thor glanced up from folded arms. He hadn't known of her approach. "Mother," he said. He looked away, searching for some kind of excuse.

She did not let him look for long, "I find myself in somewhat of a bind, my son,"

His head went up, face lined with sudden concern, "What is it, Mother?"

And that was it, too. If it had been only that he was sulking, he would not be so willing to relent. He would have regaled her with the tale of how he'd been wronged.

"I am a bit short on time," she said, looping her arm comfortably through his and walking with him along the edge of the grounds, "Your father wants me with him at the council this afternoon," she explained, "And I had meant _days_ ago to get to the sad mess of my garden. I had wondered if you might attend me."

"To," his brow creased in puzzlement, "… _weed_?"

"If you would," she shrugged, "Or merely to stay and speak with me. There is not much to be done, and I grow lonesome in my gardens with you boys grown and busied about your own affairs."

After a moment, Thor nodded.

She pressed his arm, "I'm glad of it," she smiled.

"I still could ask your brother," she said more generally, walking with him, "but I thought to ask you first. It's been a long time since we two have talked."

She noted that his smile had something uncertain behind it and she didn't ask him anything further. She let him direct her across the expanse of courtyard and to her gardens. He was quiet as he walked beside her, and she only commented softly on benign things – only just enough to allow him the space to gather his thoughts. She had to lengthen her stride to keep pace with him. She didn't think he noticed, and it made her smile. It reminded her of the way he had galloped about when he was only a little boy.

She knelt down at the edge of a neglected bed and, folding back her sleeves, she set about her task.

Thor fidgeted nervously behind her for a while, keeping pace with her gentle prompts toward small talk, before he finally got on his own knees, offering his hands and asking which he ought to pull.

"I feel a fool only standing there behind you," he said.

Frigga smiled, "You needn't," she told him fondly. "But, if you would, these," she held up a spiney shoot of a weed, "are the things that need to go. They're taking over the entire bed."

Thor gave her a curt nod and began trying to tease out the little plants. His hands were clumsy, but well-intentioned. Frigga appreciated his thoughtfulness. He frowned in concentration. She knew how little he liked interruptions when he'd set his mind to a thing, so she did not speak, but enjoyed this time with him.

She missed him when he was so often gone.

And he would soon be a man.

They had never spent over-much time together, she and her elder son.

"If I can't…" Thor paused. He didn't look away from the work his fingers were getting at in the earth. He tipped his hands in a sort of shrugging gesture, "rule, then, what happens?"

She paused a long moment, considering.

"What is it that would prevent you?"

"I would," he said.

She glanced at him, then back to her own work. "In what manner?"

"If…" he gave a sigh that was more weary than aggravated, "I prove myself unworthy of it, what then?"

She had not expected such an admission from him. She wondered at it, a little proudly, for it showed a maturity she did not know he'd grown to.

"I'm not blind," he interrupted her musings a touch bitterly, "I'm not like the rest of you. You and Father and Loki, you all have your magic. I have no part of that. I have no great power. I…" he rubbed absently at his forehead with one hand, streaking it unknowingly with dirt from his thumb, and he shook his head. "I don't know why I should have this place. And I would not have it by merit of birth alone."

She did not express at first her surprise, or the warm pride she felt in him. For one moment, they were washed over with longing. He was becoming a man before her eyes. The days of his infancy were long past and she couldn't help but miss them. Then the moment had passed and left a glowing feeling in her breast. Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself.

"Let your mind rest," she counseled. "Think little of those things. Think instead of all the people devoted to you already. Think of your friends. Do you imagine them so foolish as to place their trust in one who was unworthy of it?"

Thor sat back on his heels, but he did not look at her. He made no move to speak.

"You have charm to rally the people to you," she said, "and strength men in their prime can do no more than envy."

She saw him begin to smile.

Straightening, she put out her hand and touched the back of his. She met his bright blue eyes. "Train hard, and focus on pruning those gifts you have to their truest fruition," she said, "The rest will follow."

He smiled. It wasn't the brash grin he usually gave. It had sweetness to it, and uncertainty. "You truly believe so?"

She pressed his hand. "I do."

That night she spoke of it to Odin. At first he disbelieved her, but as she spoke his disbelief was replaced with indignation. "Such misgivings cannot be pandered to and be counted upon to die."

"He understands the magnitude of what it is we should be asking of him," she said. "Is not this a good thing?"

"Better," Odin said, "that he not need the supporting hand of his mother."

Stung, Frigga drew back a little. She recalled in the early days of their reign how Odin had described his own mother. Her calculation and cruelty. It was a good thing that he had never felt such a need himself, she thought.

Or perhaps, she wondered, he had, and having no recourse, had driven any memory of such a longing far from his mind.

"He would have your approval over anything," she said.

"I would he knew his strength as his own and not look to mine for its merit."

Frigga closed her lips. Going to the wide window, she wrapped her arms about herself and she watched the birds dive through the haze of the sunset sky. One final rush before sleep.

She heard a creak and then the butt of the spear on the tiled floor behind her.

"I fear I have angered my queen."

"No," she shook her head, "Not angered."

"What then, my wife?"

She did not turn to face him. "An infant learns to walk by watching the steps of its parent."

"Then," he said, "Let them watch."

"And if they fear, ought I not reassure my children?" she turned then, and she looked at him. "I will not stand idly as they beg my aid, Odin."

He smiled with one side of his mouth, "It is the weakness of your sex, Frigga," he said. "It is a woman's plight, for her heart ever to exceed her mind."

"Would that I were a man, then, if only for a moment and might the better understand yours."

"Never wish that, my queen," he said. "I will watch," he promised, laying a hand to her shoulder, "and I will see what there is to be done for him to aid him on his path."

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **Loki's back again next chapter. Promise. He usually monopolizes my writing and I wanted to give Thor some time with his mom at this** _ **vulnerable**_ **age. I like seeing him a little uncertain of himself.**

 **In answer to the guest who reviewed chapter 9: yes. If briefly. And soon…ish.**


	12. Chapter 12

**The boys are about 15/17 now**

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

Frigga was agitated. Of a summer, she would like to visit Fensalir with her husband and her sons. Not for any real length of time, even for a day. But Odin would not.

He was too busy, he said.

They had argued it back and forth between them year upon year. He'd promised her he would attend her this time, and he had fallen through, once more, on his promise.

She berated him fiercely for it, but to no avail.

She remembered the days before Thor's birth. How they had wandered the dunes together.

In the past years, she had set their trip aside by days and sometimes even weeks in an attempt to bring him along with them. She would set it back and aid him in any way she could to hasten his hand. But never did it shift the outcome.

So, having argued with him well into the small hours, she rose early with her mind set upon its course. This, and no other. She would leave with the dawn.

The Norns would say otherwise. She was forestalled by business for many hours, and the sun was beginning its downward trek across the sky by the time they finally could set out.

"Finally!" Thor exulted, throwing his hands down on the table.

Loki was sitting on the window ledge with one leg hanging down and a book open on his lap. He did not look up.

Thor was up and out of his chair and gone before Frigga had chance to utter a second word.

"Should we not wait for the morrow?" Loki asked languidly. "It seems late to be setting out."

She had expected something nearer Thor's enthusiasm from him. She remembered last summer, how excited they both had been, and she missed that. It was likely that he didn't want to come at all. That was due largely to his age, she thought, comforting herself. Thor had often been more reticent at that age.

"I told your father I would be leaving today," she told him, "and leave today we shall."

The way he pressed his lips told her he well knew what form that 'telling' had taken. He'd always been perceptive in that regard. She could recall a time when he was very small, one of the first occasions when she'd brought the boys alone. Thor had ridden off ahead with a friend and Loki had bided by with her. He'd looked at her with his big green eyes in his child's face and asked her why father so much did not want to come that he would shout.

Giving a resigned sigh through his nose he put a marker in his book and slung his leg down from the window frame.

"I'll be along in a moment," he said.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

The sun was just sinking beneath the line of the sea as they arrived at Fensalir, her Sea Palace. It stood beautiful and alone on the edge of the water, flanked by the dunes, lulled by the sounds of the sea and the water-birds that cried overhead. Frigga was relieved to be free of the heat of the city.

She had brought only a few serving men to attend them. If she had her way, she would bring none, but Odin insisted on a retinue, for safety if nothing else, and this had become their compromise. Neither he nor the boys had to like it.

When they finally alighted and it came time to unload the carts, however, Thor was nowhere to be found, which left herself and Loki to coordinate the unpacking. And Loki was put out enough at coming as it was. He had less tolerance for the heat than Thor had, and the ride was a long one.

She went and put a hand on his shoulder, "I know you're tired," she said, cutting him off. He was going to say something scathing about his brother, and she didn't want to have to address that. "Why don't you go and lie down for a while," she brushed a hand across his forehead, "wait for it to cool off."

He looked at her, caught a little off guard. "You don't, require my help?" he asked.

She smiled. "If I can manage the both of you _and_ your father on my own, I'm sure I can succeed in this with what help I have here. Go and rest."

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

The sun set and the water lapped black and velvety along the coast. The house was quiet now, but Frigga was not tired. Far from it, she was excited. There was peace in these walls, leaching from them and into the air all about her, and the wind blew cool over the water, chasing off the oppressive heat.

Smiling, she gave a soft tap on the frame of Loki's door. Knowing the likelihood of receiving answer, she did not wait but slipped in. He'd been sleeping since their arrival, some four or five hours prior, and she found him as she'd expected to, with his face half turned on one arm.

"Loki," she touched his shoulder, "wake up,"

"Mm," his brows came down and he turned his face away against the pillow. "Can't it wait?"

Laughing, she shook him, "Come, you!" she said, "You'll miss it!"

"How important," he grumbled, driving his face into his arm, "can it _possibly_ be?"

She prodded him until, finally, still grumbling, he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. She didn't give him time to change his mind but grasped his wrist and dragged him protesting out of the room and down the hall and out onto the balcony overlooking the coast.

"What _time_ is…" he stopped.

The sea was still in the calm of the night, the stars shining cold and untouchable in the velvet sky. The water was thickly black, but above it, just under the very surface of the water, patterns arose. They were pale green, scattering and swirling across the surface of the water in a breathtaking dance.

"It's still enough on the water tonight that they came out," she whispered. She turned her head and she saw him looking out at the water. The weird green light played across his face and reflected in his eyes, so like the signature of their shared magic. "Would you like to get a closer look?" she whispered.

Slowly, he smiled.

They spent much of that night on the water in a boat they had fitted out between the two of them, or on the beach, wading into the biting cold of the night-time water.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

They both slept late the next morning, and by the time they'd awoken, Thor had returned. He asked where they'd been that they broke their fast so much later than usual.

Loki did not seem to want to answer him. He wasn't making eye contact, peeling the crusts distractedly from a piece of bread and looking down over the ledge beside them at the sea.

Frigga was noncommittal. "We were busy," she said, pouring herself tea. She offered the pot to Thor but he shook his head.

"What with?" he asked.

"Oh," she said lightly, laying aside the teapot, "things. I happened to know where _one_ of my sons was when I found myself in want of a companion."

Dropping her gaze, Thor chuckled. Leaning back in his chair he looked back as if trying to follow some sound within the house. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Smiling, she lifted her tea to her lips, and setting it down she saw the startled look on Loki's face and how he was watching her, like he was trying to piece her out.

She raised one eyebrow at him and slowly, he smiled.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **Almost didn't include this chapter. But...it's actually one of my favorite moments. Let me know if you're glad I included it ;)**

 **And there's a point later…kind of. Fensalir comes in at least one more time….soooon.**

 **If you've been following all my updates as I go, 'In the End' chapter 22 should be about… next. Yes. Next.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**The boys are about 16/18 now**

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

As Loki grew, Frigga began to worry after him less. His illnesses came with lesser duration and frequency. He came into his height, and though he would never have Thor's strength – there were few who possessed that gift – he was nevertheless a formidable foe. His speed and agility complemented Thor's power. If ever they could learn to work beside one another, she thought a touch wryly, there were few who would dare stand against them.

The anxiety he'd exhibited as a child did not entirely vanish as he grew, but the form it took changed. Where as a child he had shrunk within himself, altering all he could to better blend in among his peers, as a youth, he flashed. He drove his differences in the faces of those who would belittle him for them. He employed the magic that had once embarrassed him in the tests of his training, and when the masters confronted him on it he only tipped his head back and demanded they check the records to find if such practice was ever once forbidden.

It was not. But the thing missed by her younger son was that such forceful ways of putting his detractors down prevented them from feeling any willingness to be more than that. He did not make friends easily, or well. He never had. He showed little desire for them, barricading himself behind his sharp tongue and his books. But he was young, yet. He would learn.

She hoped he might learn soon, but such wisdom was slow coming. To either of her sons.

Thor had grown bold. Arrogance colored his postures and actions, and it was few weeks that would go by without Odin's disciplining him for some infraction or other.

Loki was less often implicated, but she wryly thought him no less defiant of their father's commands. Every bit the equal of his brother in temper and flair, if not more so for his quiet, Loki was often overlooked by Odin in the AllFather's bursts of parental correction. Where Thor would shout in return till the palace shook, Loki would vanish with a contrite look on his face, thinking his own thoughts. Odin was not still enough himself to notice the nuances of Loki's more subdued expressions. Frigga well knew the boy's games, and she had his trust where Odin did not.

So it was that Loki was standing in her chambers, eyes flashing and mouth a thin line, recounting some clash between himself and one of his latest companions.

She and Odin had spoken at length the night before about some new foolery of Thor's, much in the same manner as she and Loki took now. She, sitting on a low couch with her feet drawn up and a book only just recently closed on her lap, with her visitor agitated and pacing, gesturing with his hands and throwing broad and heated jabs with his tongue.

As she watched Loki pace, the similarity between him and his father did not escape her and abruptly she caught herself about to laugh.

He was not so distracted by his own frustration as to ignore that. His brows darted together and he folded his arms. His chin went up and she knew she'd hurt his pride.

She straightened on the couch, putting her feet down onto the floor. She looked down to try and hide her smile.

"What?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, Loki," she breathed a quick laugh, "I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just," she reached out and gripped his arm, "you can be _so_ like your father."

Stung, he jerked away.

They shared that, also, he and Odin. Neither would be compared to his father, each certain he had made some great leap his forebear had never dreamed to manage.

Tickled as she was by the similitude, the humor was rather lost on Loki, so she set it aside. She folded her hands in her lap and tipped her chin up to face him.

"Had you considered apologizing?" she asked him seriously.

"Have I –" he looked at her, incredulous, flicking his eyes between hers as though to find the joke hidden between them. But there was none and she only looked at him very seriously and after a time he had to admit defeat. He drew all of his injured pride to him, looking loftily away to the side of the room, "I had not."

She wanted very much in that moment to laugh at him. But she swallowed the impulse back, looking down at her hands, folded in her lap. When she'd regained her tongue, she raised her head.

Loki hadn't moved. He stood facing her with his arms folded and his head turned away. His mouth was a very thin line.

"It seems to me," Frigga ventured, softly. "That what you are being asked to do now is to choose, between the friendship, and your own pride."

Loki was unhappy with the direction the conversation was taking. He was looking down his nose at her. "It is not my place," he said coldly, "to beg forgiveness when the wrong is another's."

"Loki, it was a quarrel!"

He only grimaced and turned his head again. He'd wanted her to pet him in his sulk. He was impatient with how she prompted him. It was well enough. He need not enjoy all aspects of his upbringing.

"Also,"

She waited, but he did not turn.

"Loki, look at me."

Giving a much put-upon breath through his nose, Loki swung around and met her eyes.

"I've heard you argue before," she said, choosing to ignore his petulance. "And while the fight is not often your fault, you _do_ say unkind things. Perhaps a bit more unkind than you ought." He started to protest and she lifted one hand. "Perhaps," she said, "you do not mean it as it sounds – and I _do_ understand that. Understand now that I merely bring it to your attention as a point to be kept in your mind as you decide upon your course."

And having said that, she reached over beside her to the little table and, picking up her book, she flipped it open to her page.

Loki hovered for one moment, then let his arms drop. "What –" he fumbled. Then he stopped. He exhaled, then, much softer, he asked her, "What would you have me do?"

Giving a slight raise of one eyebrow, she glanced at him once, then back to the pages before her, "I think you old enough to make that decision for yourself, Loki."

The corners of his mouth tipped down. He waited, watching her to see if she might change her mind.

She looked at him then, and she smiled. "I know you'll do me proud."

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **I feel like Frigga probably said that a lot. She had a lot of faith in her boys. Let's hope they live up to it come Ragnarok ;)**

 **Oo. With that. Almost forgot. Bonus for anyone interested.**

watch?v=2hIvjTRm9U

 **I mean, I'm not gonna tell you not to watch the whole thing, BUT. Specifically pause at 27 seconds. Look at the bottom right hand corner.**

 **WTF.**

 **I need this explained to me.**

 **Love to hear your response/explanation.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Late teens? Idk. I'm gonna stick with the 16/17 year old label for now. Old enough to get into trouble.**

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

"You should ask that sweet girl you've been spending so much time with," Frigga said. She didn't look up from the papers spread on her desk, pen in hand.

Nevertheless, she saw the way Loki stiffened.

She pretended not to notice it, distractedly applying her signature to the end of a superfluously worded Vana document – the Van Cities of the West were nothing akin to the ones she'd grown in and their manner seemed distasteful and flowery to her. "What was her name again?"

He hesitated just a beat too long. "Sigyn," he said.

Frigga glanced up at him. He was looking at some object near his foot under the desk very intently and his face was flushed in a way she knew it had not been a moment before. She smiled, just a little.

"Ah, yes," she said lightly, lifting the pages of that document, "Loki, would you…?"

Happy for the distraction, he took the papers and rose, setting them on the table across the room.

"She's very pretty," Frigga said, searching the next of the documents for the place. "Why don't you ask her to accompany us? She's sure to enjoy the beaches."

Still flushed, Loki looked at her reproachfully, "You know very well why," he said.

Raising her brows she looked at him, "No, actually. You and your brother have often brought your friends to Fensalir. Why not now?."

"That's," turning away from her he rubbed one wrist with his thumb, "different."

She scoffed, "I fail to see how."

Loki's mouth tipped, but he made no other answer, looking down out of the window.

Frigga lifted the pages, fluttering them to make them align, one with another, "It's not as though – what between myself and the others about the house – her honor could be questioned, any more than if she had remained here,"

"Mother!"

Raising her brows she spread her hands, "I only suggest the objection that occurs to me, Loki. Did you have others? They might not be so obvious to one so far removed as I."

There was a long pause, then, "No," he said lowly. "I suppose not…"

He was blushing furiously.

She scanned through the document again, "Then what is to stop you?"

He gave a short laugh that had little by way of amusement in it. "Perhaps I have no desire to ask her."

"Mm," she said, "Perhaps. And perhaps," she made one final mark on the paper and laid it aside, "you only fear her rejection."

"I do not –"

"Then why argue it?" she looked up at him where he stood on the opposite side of her desk, tensed and alert. "If you had no interest in the girl it would have been the matter of a simple dismissal."

She had him and he knew it. Fire smoldered in his eyes and the one hand she could see, laid against the side of her desk curled into a slow fist. "Fine," he spat. "I'll ask her."

And before she could say a thing about it, he'd slung the door shut behind him.

Shaking her head, Frigga smiled.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **I feel like Loki would've used the same tactic on Thor.**

 **I mean, he had to learn it somewhere. Nobody just comes up with this stuff, do they?**

 **That doesn't mean he has to like it, though.**

 **Oh well. Tune in for more tomorrow. Same bat-time. Same bat-channel.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sigyn's right about his age. Just in case anyone's wondering. Maybe a little younger.**

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

Sigyn was a lovely girl. She was very beautiful, with sharp, delicate features, a mane of copper hair and striking topaz-colored eyes. She moved with a quick grace that reminded Frigga of the little deer that haunted the wooded skerries to the north of the city, or one of the big cats of the Southern Woods.

Thor was heading some quest for his father along with several of his friends and would be joining them at Fensalir on his way home. And for Loki's sake, Frigga was glad. Thor dominated rooms and conversations, she knew Loki often felt constricted by him.

Watching them as they rode in the cart over the top of her book, Frigga smiled. Sigyn was continually pointing and exclaiming about things they passed, laughing and flashing her golden eyes at Loki. Once, she caught her breath, "Oh, look!" she gasped, " _Look_!"

And she leaned forward, across Loki, to point excitedly out across the water at the flight of radiantly plumed birds. Without thinking of it, she'd put one hand lightly on Loki's wrist to balance herself.

Then the birds were gone from their sight and she sat back again, "They're so beautiful. Loki," she said, "I'm so happy we saw them. Thank you," she turned quickly to glance at Frigga, to indicate her as well, "for inviting me along."

"You're," he was looking at her very intently and Frigga did not know if he remembered that there was anyone else in the world at all. Then he blinked and he turned his head away. "You're welcome," he said.

If she noticed the flush creeping up his neck, Sigyn gave no sign.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

It was wonderful, to see the way she ran him about the palace. She marveled at everything, flying from one thing to the next like an eager child. Frigga laughed, thinking to herself that finally, Loki had found someone who's curiosity was the equal of his own.

Sigyn was good for him, Frigga thought. She was laughing and effervescent where he could be moody and quiet and she challenged him. She made him think and she made him laugh, laugh like he had as a child.

For Thor, she had worried differently. He fell in and out of love with speed and intensity. He rarely felt for a girl long enough that Frigga would even know her name. Loki was more reserved. She did not think there were many girls he had ever felt for. Sif, she knew, had been a childhood infatuation of his, and Freja, a mage-woman from Vanaheim that had aided with his studies. But there was nothing of future for him with them, and he'd known it.

Sitting in a shaded alcove of her garden, they watched the rippling water that ran past to the sea. Sigyn was sitting on the sand before her, gesturing fluidly and with her hands, her eyes very serious as she spoke and as she listened. The girl was knowledgeable about many things, in the way of a mind that didn't realize its own power. She had an attentiveness that Frigga was sure made Loki more than a little uneasy. But undoubtedly it pleased him, too. As they spoke, Frigga decided she quite liked her. She'd already thought so, but having conversed with her at length, she was certain.

Loki sat a little ways away as she and Sigyn spoke, about an arm's reach from them. He was watching both of them, very quietly. Then he frowned. He turned his head and looked out at the play of the sunlight on the water.

Frigga had never seen him like this.

Sigyn rested back on her hands, contented and still as she looked out on the water. Then she leaned forward. Feather-soft, she brushed Loki's wrist.

Startled from his thoughts, he blinked at her.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You seemed so far away,"

For a long moment, he only looked at her, searching her face.

She had no notion of how she delighted him. It showed deep in his eyes. Frigga thought with a pang how lonesome he must be, that Sigyn's question could touch him so deeply.

It grieved her that it was not an ill she could remedy.

At least, she comforted herself, this was a beginning.

Sigyn smiled, "What is it?"

Giving a cough in his throat Loki shook his head, "I was thinking," he said.

Sigyn's head tipped to one side, "What about?" she asked.

The wind blew a lock of her hair across her face and she caught it back with her hand.

Loki opened his mouth as though to speak, then changed his mind and abruptly rose. In a fluid motion he bent and gathered a number of the small, flat stones that lay on the ground beside the water. "How far do you think you can skip one of these?"

He tossed one to her and she caught it in both her hands. Her eyes flashed when she smiled. "Let's see."

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

It was two nights later, by a little brazier in the garden, that Frigga suggested they go down to the market. It was a little village market, held every so many days, perhaps a half-hour's walk from Fensalir. There were some things that they would need for the feast she had planned for Thor's arrival, which was anticipated for the next evening.

Her bare feet tucked under her on the chair, she explained that she could send one of the serving men, but she'd thought that the two of them might enjoy the errand more.

Sigyn had been delighted by the idea. And so it had been decided that the two of them should go.

Frigga was never quite sure what happened.

She herself had slept rather late that morning, and when she came down in her bare feet and her loose dressing gown she had found a note, scrawled in Loki's hand, laid under a glass on the tabletop, to the effect that something pressing had come to his attention, and he had been forced to return home with utmost speed.

More puzzled than alarmed, Frigga called one of her men and sent him to the stables.

Neither Loki's horse nor its fittings remained.

None had seen or heard him ride out.

Sigyn arrived, with her flaming hair bound back behind her head and her saffron skirt caught up in her hand, just as the man was answering Frigga's questions.

"What's happened?" Sigyn asked. She set her basket on the table.

Frigga considered, then made her choice. "Loki's left us," she said, sitting down at the table. "I rather thought something must have come between you on the road."

Sigyn frowned, "No, I – I have no idea. I woke earlier than he and the cook was in such a fuss I decided to let him sleep and just go on my own. I had, I had hoped," she flushed prettily, "that he might meet me there."

"Well," Frigga took a long breath, "who knows," she smiled. "Perhaps he will come back."

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **I originally wrote this by accident. Yesterday's chapter was written for this fic, but today's and tomorrow's were a memory in a fic that didn't work out that I wrote…last year? Anyways, it was all originally told from Loki's pov, so it was an interesting challenge to switch it all over.**

 **For anybody who's wondering what Loki's thinking about in that scene by the water when Sigyn asks him and he's all evasive…He's thinking that they're really too young to decide such things, but he wants to marry her, someday. I didn't know how to communicate that from Frigga's pov.**

 **Anyways. More tomorrow.**


	16. Chapter 16

Loki did not come back.

The feast was prepared and Thor arrived, full of the tales of his adventures.

Frigga listened to him, but she could not help noticing how Sigyn's eyes wandered away to the dark edges of the room.

The remainder of the trip was not as the beginning had been.

Thor was jovial, as though he did not notice the lack, or perhaps was striving the harder to overcome it.

Sigyn was more quiet than she had been, though she responded amiably to Thor's company.

Frigga remained happy for both of their sakes. But she wondered what in the Nine could have happened to drive Loki away. She found herself looking forward to their return home, when she might have answer from him.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

Answer, was something Loki was unwilling to give.

After three days and fewer sightings of her younger son, Frigga lost her patience. She went to his rooms and as there was no answer, she whispered the works and twisted the lock aside. She went within and found him in his study. She rapped on the doorframe.

He turned from the shelf, "Oh," he said distractedly, "Hello. What is it?"

He would have been more jarred had he truly been unaware of her entry. He barely looked up at her from the book opened on his palm.

Some of her frustration softened. "I'm worried about you," she said.

He moved nearer the desk, perhaps checking some thing written on one of the papers against the book in his hand, perhaps only feigning it. "And why is that?"

She came over next to him, leaning over to look into his face.

He turned his back on her, closing the book and conveniently sliding it back onto the shelf.

"I think you might know," she said.

Loki 'hmm-ed' noncommittally. He took a book from the shelf, flipped it open, slid one finger down the page, closed it, laid it aside, and reached for another.

Frigga closed the distance between them and took his wrist. "Look at me," she said. She brought his wrist down and around so that he would turn and face her. He let himself be moved. "You are not acting like yourself," Sliding her hands down to hold both of his, she searched his face, "What are you not telling me?"

The smile that flashed on his face did not touch his eyes. "Nothing. Mother," he said. "I've been a bit preoccupied recently. I'll try and…"

He let it go as she dropped her eyes to their joined hands. She traced her thumbs over the back of his palms. Then she looked back at him.

"I thought you promised never to lie to me," she said.

He closed his eyes and all the pretense he'd held since she entered fell away. Not an illusion so much as an act. He looked so tired.

"What happened, Loki?" she asked. "What came between you and Sigyn?"

A muscle in his jaw moved as he turned away from her.

"She told me she never saw you at the market. All we got was your _note_. And I am only speaking with you now because I forced your door. Loki," she gave a soft exasperated breath, "What's happened?"  
"Nothing."

She considered for a long moment, then she closed the little distance between them. She put a hand high on his arm, by his shoulder, exerting the slightest pressure that might make him turn and face her. "Loki,"

He drew a long breath, "I –" then he gave it up. "By the time I'd woken she had already left." He spoke in the dull monotone of something recounted a thousand times. "So," he said, "I went after her. She, never saw me. I only saw her from behind," he shrugged a little, "No one else has hair that color. She was with another man and I didn't," his arms folded across his chest. "I didn't want to come between them."

"Loki," she breathed. Grasping what hope she could offer from her own confusion she said, "Perhaps it wasn't as you thought it was. Perhaps an uncle, or a cousin."

He was half looking over his shoulder, so she saw the way his mouth tipped, sarcastic and biting, "And perhaps a lover she snuck out early to meet at market."

"Loki!"

His teeth locked and he turned his head.

"You don't know that," she gentled. "She might have a perfectly good explanation –"

"You didn't see them."

"Perhaps," she ventured slowly, "I needn't have. I saw you, and more than that –"

"She loved _him_ , Mother," he cut her off, bitter and hoarse and quiet. "Let that be the end of it."

Gently she pressed, "Have you tried speaking to _her_?"

"I can't," he said. She felt the breath hitch in his chest, "I _can't_ ,"

"Oh Loki," she put her arms about him and rested her head against his shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

Her hands were clasped at his collarbone and he held them there with one of his own, using the other hand to smear the tears off his face. He laughed shortly, turning to face her. "I'm a fool, aren't I?" he asked.

She put her hand against his cheek, then kissed the fresh tears from his face. She drew him against her. "You're young, Loki," she whispered. "This will all pass in time."

"So," he spoke against her shoulder, "I'm a young fool, then?"

She released him and stepped back, sliding her hand down his arm she gripped his hand. "Don't hide from me, Loki," she said. "Don't burn bridges you'll one day regret."

He looked at her, one moment, level and blank, then jerked a nod. He looked away.

"Come here," she said.

He let her hold him. And she wished that she might fix this for him.

But those days were over. He was no longer a child. She could comfort him, but he would have to forge his own path.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

 **A while ago, I was reading a book of psychological oddities. One of those listed was the fact that most people who are afraid of rejection, reject everyone who gets close to them, because they're sure it's going to happen one way or another and, that way, at least they're in control of it. The author used romantic relationships as an example.**

 **I never wrote all of my original idea for this story.**

 **The fic (which I felt was a failure and I have not published) was a 'Thor' au, where Loki drops off the Bifrost and lands on Earth and "learns his lesson"** _ **without**_ **all the drama from 'The Avengers'. There were** _ **a lot**_ **of memory sequences – which is a large part of why I went back to writing prequel things.** _ **But.**_ **As I went I came up with THIS sequence, and I thought maybe I'd write a sequel, where he ends up re-accepted into the Asgardian royal family and runs into Sigyn again.**

 **Spoiler being: It comes out in conversation that it** _ **was**_ **a long-lost cousin that she had run into.**

 **I don't think I'll ever really write it, but a.) I might and b.) there it is.**


	17. Chapter 17

When Loki was small, he'd loved to play with her hair. He would come into her room with her most nights, after dinner for stories, his little dimpled hand caught in hers, and he would marvel at her long hair as she let it down, pin by pin. He would wait beside her on the bed and he would take the pins from her hand and put them carefully into their dish on the vanity.

She recalled once, his growing suddenly quiet, and how she had turned about. "What's amiss, Loki?" she'd asked, "You look troubled."

He'd been looking at her with his eyes huge. "You're beautiful," he'd breathed.

Then, hearing himself, he'd flushed deeply pink and hidden his little face in his hands. Laughing, she'd taken him and kissed him and tickled him until he was laughing so hard he was out of breath.

More quickly than she liked, he had grown too old for such pastimes. But sometimes, if he was with her of an evening, and they were alone, they would both pretend that they did not know it.

She remembered several occasions when he was all but grown, before some ceremony and between the time her handmaids had absented themselves and the actual commencement of things, asking him without thinking on it, after her hair or her appearance. She recalled the way he grumbled before offering his grudging assistance. But he'd always offered it, and she knew he remembered, and that he was glad she had asked.

Thor teased him, once, before a ceremony some months prior to his coronation, when the date had yet to be set, that Loki was the only warrior with the ability to adequately style a woman's hair.

Before Loki had the chance to do more than whirl on his brother, Frigga had cut in. She watched them both in the glass before which she sat. "Few men are cunning enough with their hands to be of much use in that way, Thor."

Swallowing whatever it was he had been going to say, Loki only smiled smugly.

Thor put up his hands, unwilling, at the very least, to argue with her.

She watched them in the glass behind her. And she knew that nothing in life could have made her happier than to be their mother.

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

" **Little did she know…mwahaha." Heh.**

 **This is the end of the prequel. Now we're in sight of movie timelines.**

 **More soon.**


	18. Chapter 18

"It was a direct denial of _my_ authority, Odin," she shouted, " _Our_ authority! _I_ made him king while you slept, you _know_ this. How can you ignore it?" tears streaked liquid and hot down her cheeks.

"And what of the others?" he snapped, "Thor's band who betrayed Loki's ruling to go after Thor? What – if anything – am I to do to them?"

"They are little more than children," she said, "Witless children. But Heimdal's treason _cannot_ be ignored!"

" _I_ ," Odin snapped, "am yet _king_. And my judgement is final." He quieted, "The Gatekeeper is indispensable to me."

Frigga's heart broke in her chest, "Our son was indispensable to me."


	19. Chapter 19

**Before you ask, no. I'm not sorry for what I did to you with the last chapter. Not sorry at all.**

 **TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL**

Frigga knew her sons. She knew that Thor had been angry with the outcome of his ruined coronation. How could he not be? So much anticipation and preparation, falling away to nothing as soon as he reached out his hand for it.

She knew her sons.

As she walked her gardens, in the presence of the fleeting memories of their childhoods, garbed in the grey of mourning, she strove to fit together the pieces she knew.

Thor had been angry and Loki – in all likelihood – had gone to him.

Such was their way. Had always been their way. When Thor was in pain of any kind, Loki would know it, and he would go to him. Whether with intent to sooth or rile depended on the occasion. Most situations, she thought, called from him a combination of both.

Thor would have been ranting. She'd seen the wreck he made of the dining hall. He would have been shouting at the seeming stupidity of their father's demands.

Loki, low-voiced and calm, like oil on the surface of turbulent water, would have agreed with his brother. Then he would have pointed out with equal calmness, that, daft or no, Odin was still their father. Their father, their king _and_ their commanding officer, all in one.

She wondered if he had put the idea of disobedience into Thor's head, or if the boy had come to it naturally enough on his own. Obedience had never been a virtue well-liked by any in their family. She recalled her own history, and that she knew of Odin's. To point out the fact that one must obey would naturally lead to a consideration that perhaps one needn't.

But Thor had ever chaffed under his father's will.

Odin alerted. Thor banished. All over with the swiftness of a thunderclap. And she had been made aware of none of it until it was done and over with and she had no choice.

She had been furious with Odin.

Banishment? After – what? Nothing more than that of which Thor had been guilty his entire life? Never had it prompted Odin to action as it did now.

He blamed the coming war. But such declarations of imminent conflict had been made before. Odin well-knew they had the strength to defeat the Jotnar should they make good on their threat. They alone possessed the Casket.

He had pled with her that she trust him. And wearily, stricken with grief, she had agreed. What other choice had she had left to her?

She should have thought of Loki in that time. She should have sought him out. Should have gone to him.

Odin had fallen into his sleep and she had been afraid. If Odin was not there to bring to fruition his purposes, what was to become of their son? She determined, sitting beside him as he lay on the great bed, that she had to trust him. Had to trust that he had laid the pieces well enough that they would resolve themselves. In the quiet, her weary mind had finally accepted it. It was all she could do.

And Loki had come to her. Quiet. Jagged. Broken in ways she could no longer reach with eyes that were too bright. Too pale. With no depths to them.

She remembered the way he'd looked at her across the glow of Odin's healing sleep, how he'd hesitated. Then his low voice as he'd finally brought himself to ask, "Did you hate him for bringing me?"

At first, she had not known what it was he meant. "Loki?"

She remembered how he wouldn't look at her. "When he brought me home," he said, "from the War. After…" his eyes had come reluctantly up to her, "After he…found me."

Her heart had dropped out from inside her rib cage. "Darling!" she said. She reached out her hand across the bed towards him but he'd made no move to take it. "No," she'd said, "Of course not!"

She remembered how he'd turned his head away, and the utter blankness on his face as he did so.

He knew her too well.

It was too much for him. Too much in too short a time.

She blamed herself for not seeing how the pressures of his station and the oddity of his own gifts among them had worn at him. How they'd darkened his mind.

And she'd put the kingship on top of it all.

She'd meant it as a show of trust. A proof that nothing between them had changed.

But it was all too much for him.

And the people, the people he had styled his friends. Heimdall.

When they expressed their sympathies to her, however, she was gracious. The blame was a thing they shared. Though she did not feel kindly toward any of them.

It was too much.

And he'd been lost to her.

Odin had woken.

Thor was restored.

But her younger son was lost.

He'd _let go_.

And she didn't know if she would ever quite be able to forgive herself for the hand she'd had in it.


	20. Chapter 20

Days passed.

Weeks went by.

Months fled.

They flew with the speed of angels and they dragged their feet, weary day-laborers, longing for their rest.

There was much to be done, and little time for grief.

She was often alone, lacking the energy to face her people. Thor and Odin were frequently away.

She missed Loki's still presence. How abruptly he would appear behind her as she fumbled through some long strain of scrawled terms or decrees and pick out the places she was missing. The loopholes. The catches and tricks.

This was a role she had learned. He moved as though born for it.

He had.

Word that the Bifrost had been destroyed and the staying hand of Asgard was removed from them, its AllFather weary, had spread like a fire licking across a sheet of oiled paper, flaring farther across the realms. The discord that had ever bubbled among the border lands burst into conflict. And that conflict rushed inwards and nearer, bordering on the central Nine, drawing all to succumb.

Sometimes she stopped, lost as she had been in those days before Thor's birth.

In the moments that followed, when she'd come back to herself, she would pause. She would close her eyes, and she would try to remember the good of it.

And always she came back.

How had it come to this.

She had never wanted a throne. She had only even longed for a husband who would let her stand beside him, and children to call her own.

Odin was busy, always, lost in the archives and surrounded by buzzing clumps of his advisors. Thor he was continually sending away. Not that Thor would come to her. Thor had ever kept his own counsel. More now, more solemnly than he had before, as a headstrong youth. He had grown in his banishment, but he was unsure how to go on in this newer, darker world.

And she was left with the day-to-day leading of the realm.

She was standing in a storeroom, looking at something that stood in one corner of the place, festooned with thin, white cobwebs, bathed in blue shadows.

Its golden curves looked smudged in the weary light, a mockery of what it ought to have been.

It was the cradle where both her boys had slept as babes.

She remembered first laying Thor down in it. Tiny and red and squalling, little hands balled into tight, tiny fists.

She remembered the first time she'd taken Loki from it. Remembered the wondering uncertainty that had numbed her.

Those times. The darkness and doubt. Even through it, they'd had the pure light of a beginning, like the silver-grey of coming dawn.

This wasn't like that. This was death. And how she longed only to rest.

"Are you remembering him?"

"Thor," she turned to face him, then realized the tears on her face and she smeared them away. She glanced back over her shoulder, longingly, at the cradle. "Yes," she answered.

It was old, unused. Coated with dust. A relic of a past now lost.

"… _just another stolen relic…"_

She remembered Odin recounting to her those words in the first days after his waking, and how wearily he'd laid his head in his palm, weighed down by fathomless grief.

Straightening her shoulders, she cleared the tightness from her throat and drew her station about her. She was a queen. She was his mother. She was herself. "Remembering the both of you," she told him, summoning a weak smile. "The days as they were."

He folded his great arms about himself as though to fend off a chill she could not feel.

"Why do you come down here?" he asked her, finally.

In all the time since his banishment, he had not asked her such a question. He'd spoken at length with his father, but when he looked at her it was as though he drove her out. Something was drawn closed behind his eyes.

But now he looked at her as he had as a boy, open and searching as he had been before he'd become so sure of his own supremacy.

She took a long breath.

"I find it good to remember what was," she said softly, "To remember all the good there was in it."

Thor didn't answer, nor did he look at her again for a long moment.

He had ever been quiet when troubled. She allowed him his silence.

Then he nodded his head.

"Father has new assignment for me," he said. "I wished to bid you farewell before I set out."

A soft pang jerked her heart and she would have pressed it back, but that her hand betrayed her. It fluttered up, out of the shawl she held about herself and rested on his arm.

He looked down at her.

"Must you go so soon?"

Somehow, she felt she had only just gotten him back. And she was so afraid to lose another son.

He pressed her hand with his. His was larger, warmer, than hers. "I must."

"When will you return?"

"I can't say," he told her. "Not even Father knows the duration of this never-ending conflict."

His eyes were distant, his tone bitter. She reached out to him and he took her hand.

"To speak truly," he pressed both her hands in his, "I am glad of it. This place is haunted with ghosts of a past I no longer know how to cherish and a future I have no more any desire for. In battle," a wry cast tipped his lips, "I find more peace than ever I know within these walls. If not for the love I bear you, Mother," his blue eyes met hers squarely, "I often think I might not return to them at all."

She watched him, searching his eyes, remembering all that had been, the boy he had been.

"I am sorry, my son."

He pressed his lips to her bent fingers and released her. "I will return when I may."

And within moments, she was alone in the storeroom once more. Accompanied only by memory.


	21. Chapter 21

Coming up again, Frigga's heart pounded a febrile rhythm. It had been too long she stayed, too far she wandered, but it was –

It was coming back. In cold waves that flooded her mind and dragged at her heart.

She felt her heart beating and settled on the drubbing of it. Settled on the rise and fall of her breast as she breathed.

Bent forward over her arm, she rested her brow dizzily in her hand. She breathed through the nausea, wading out from the cold waves that dragged still about her ankles.

Drawing a long breath, she sat back and she opened her eyes to the reality of the room about her.

He was alive.

Rising to her feet, she went to the door and she left her rooms.

Ever since the first shock of her mourning, she had sought him. She had not felt his death as she thought she should have. She had not known, in her bones, that he was dead.

So she'd sought him. Down every path and way she could find. Sought him in heart and memory of those who might have seen him. Sought him in the shade of trees and mountains and moons whose shadow might have been disturbed by his passing. Sought him in dreams and imaginings and fables that might bear some marking of a god in flight, in hiding, or a god harboring wounds. Sought him in the homes and healing halls and no-man-places of a thousand races and times.

He was clever, her boy. He had always been strong. And in those months she had had to believe that he might have discovered a way. A way to remain alive. A way to come home to her.

But the time had gone on long.

She had sought him in until her very bones ached for it. She had found no trace to give her hope. She had grown weary to death.

But then, a flicker.

She had been seen.

And drawn by the eyes of this other, she had turned about on her quest, and she had seen him.

He was gotten up in armor.

The Void about them sucked at her, drawing what force she yet had, straining.

Later, she would wonder that it did not trouble him.

But in the moment, she was only amazed to finally have found him.

His eyes watched her, brows drawn as in confusion. "Mother," he said.

"Loki," she breathed. Inadvertently, she reached out to him.

Wordlessly, he cast her away.

She had returned to herself and she had left her rooms and she went down the long halls of the palace, steadying her breath and composing herself as she went.

She entered Odin's study without making any prologue of her coming.

Only twice before had she done such a thing.

Once, brimming with unspeakable, girlish joy at the tiny fulfilment of life within her.

Once, livid with rage that could not leave her but in low tones and slow execution, enraged that he could ask of her such a thing as he had demanded.

Odin glanced up at the intrusion. Seeing her, he straightened. He raised one hand to still his advisors. Their talk lowered to a bubbling murmur, then faded to awed silence.

Odin went through them until he stood no more than a hair's breadth before her.

"Odin," she breathed. Taking his strong arms in her hands she looked up at him.

"He's alive."


	22. Chapter 22

He had been within the deepest reaches of the Void. That much she had seen. An army had been amassed to his command. The AllFather himself, even with all his ways was unable to glean as much as she had.

Odin had had a sense during his time in the places to which he would sometimes go. He had gone there after her discovery. He had caught a glimpse. But only that.

"And Heimdall can see none of him or that realm."

Frigga scoffed.

Odin did not choose to address her scorn of the Gatekeeper. Instead he continued, "Nor can he tell me ought of the power that sustains our son."

That stilled her, and she wondered at the oddness of it – noted as she'd marveled, but ignored it in the preeminent joy that her child was living, by whatever means it had come about.

Odin did not long share her unquestioning joy. He worried after something he would not speak to her in as many words as it plagued him.

"Long has he been lost in that Outer Darkness," he told her. "Who knows what he might have found, or," he brushed a lock of hair from her face, "what might have found _him_ , in the Dark," his eye searched hers, "Little enough of our son yet may remain."

"Loki is strong," she said.

Odin regarded her a long moment.

"In the history of all peoples," he said, turning away, "None has survived what he has undergone."

For the first time, uncertainty flickered in her breast and soured to anger, "Are you unhappy to learn that _our son_ is alive? After all this time?"

Odin sighed. He came back to her, taking both her hands within his again. "I merely seek to gentle the blow, Frigga, should he return to us, altered from the boy you knew," he quieted, "You did not see him at the end."

"Odin," he turned away from her and she pressed, following him. She came before him and, gentling, she traced her hand across the weary lines of his face. "What is it that you will not tell me?"

Odin closed his eye and for a long moment, he did not answer.

"He was desperate," he said, finally.

Frigga watched him as he looked down, over the ledge of the balcony, looking out over their city.

"Raving, Frigga," he turned from the view of the lights, flickering on in the cascading dark as the sun slid away, and his eye made her afraid. "Sick with wounds he would not let me heal. And if that," a bitter smile twisted his lips, "was as far as he had progressed in a mere _day_ ,"

His hand on the railing shook, and Frigga took it in her own.

Odin looked out over the land, "He will not believe me, that I could not see him, by any of my power."

Sighing, he turned and he looked at her without wavering, "How is it to be with him after a year, far from our care, amid the powers that lurk beyond the shadow of Yggdrasil, where the very Fates themselves must rally to go? No," he shook his head, "My hope, is not strong that he will be unaltered if he return to us."

He turned away from her.

Frigga drew close beside him, looking out over the city, to the sea beyond.

She took a long breath, breathing the cool of the night. "When," she said, finally.

Odin lowered his head in a kind of assent.

"When, he comes back to us," she said, "our task will be less simple." She glanced up at him, then out again over the lights. "But he is yet our son, Odin. No matter what the forces without may have done to him."

Odin said nothing. But in the descending dark, he took her hand.


	23. Chapter 23

"Queen Frigga," Heimdall greeted her, turning his golden eyes back out on his post, to look over the stars, the swirling galaxies, the Void.

She drew up beside him, her long skirts soft and rustling against her legs. "How fare the Realms, Gatekeeper?"

"As well as might be expected, my Queen."

She allowed herself a thin smile.

"Have you a task for me, my Lady?" he asked, "Or have you come merely to see the stars?"

She turned, sharply, and she faced him. "I have task for you, and I rode here myself for fear that you should not heed me should I send another."

"My Lady?"

"This stone," she held a gem, smooth and milky white in her palm. It was the size of an egg, and it glowed with the fractured light of a fire within it. She held it out to him, "will hold what visions you place within it."

"You would have me hold it?"  
"I would have you surveil my sons. I would have it on their return that I might _see_ what it is that they have done."

He bowed his head, "You have my word, my Queen." He bent and extended his hand to her.

Her mouth was tight as she put the stone into his dark palm. She made no effort to gentle her expression. "See to it," she said.


	24. Chapter 24

A messenger came to her from the Observatory. He returned to her the stone.

Sitting in her garden, she laid aside her book, and she took it from him. She thanked him.

As quickly as he'd come, he'd saluted her, and he was gone.

The stone was warm in her palm.

So, they had returned, then.

Her heart skipped a quick rush in her breast. But she would not go to them. She would remain within her quarters.

She dared not press hope too fiercely.

She breathed a long, slow breath, taking in all the rich warmth of her garden. Then she rose. She took the stone and she went within her chambers.

 _"Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made, to be ruled._

 _"In the end, you will always kneel."_

"… _I thought you dead."_

" _Did you mourn?"_

" _We all did. Our father –"_

"Your _father. He did tell you of my true parentage, did he not?"_

" _We were raised together. We played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?"_

" _I remember a shadow. Living in the_ shade _of your greatness. I remember you_ tossing _me into an abyss. I who_ was _, and_ should be _king!"_

" _So you take the world I love as a recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under_ my _protection, Loki."_

" _And you're doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you_ idly _fret. I mean to_ rule _them. And why should I not?"_

" _You think yourself above them."_

" _Well, yes."_

" _Then you miss the truth of ruling, Brother. A throne would suit you ill."_

"… _I've seen worlds you've never known about! I have grown,_ Odinson _, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract and when I wield it –"_

" _Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?"_

"I am a king! _"_

" _Not here! You give up the Tesseract! Give up this poisonous dream! You come_ home _."_

"… _I don't have it. You need the Cube to bring me home. But I've sent it off, I know not where."_

" _Listen well, Brother,"_

"… _I'm listening."_

" _It's an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me."_

" _Built for something a lot stronger than you."_

" _Oh, I've heard… The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man… How desperate are you that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"_

" _How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill 'cause it's fun. You have made me_ very _desperate. You might not be glad that you did."_

" _Ooh. It_ burns _you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share… And then to be reminded what_ real _power is."_

" _Well, let me know if "real power" wants a magazine or something."_

" _Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard. And he is my brother."_

" _It's no accident, Loki taking Eric Selvig. I dread what he plans for him once he's done. Erik is a good man."_

" _He talks about you a lot. You changed his life. You changed everything around here.'_

" _They were better as they were. We pretend on Asgard that we're more advanced but we come here, battling like bilge snipe."_

"… _Like what?"_

" _Bilge Snipe. You know, huge, scaly, big antlers… You don't have those?"_

" _I don't think so."_

" _Well, they are repulsive. And they trample everything in their path. …When I first came to Earth, Loki's rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. And now, again..._

" _In my youth, I courted war."_

"War _hasn't started yet… You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?"_

" _I do not know. Loki's mind is far afield. It's not just power he craves, it's vengeance, upon me… There's no pain would prise his need from him."_

" _A lot of guys_ think _that until the pain starts."_

"… _What are you asking me to do?"_

" _I'm asking, what are you_ prepared _to do?"_

" _Loki is a prisoner."_

" _Then why do I feel like he's the only person on this boat that_ wants _to be here?"_

" _Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Dreykov's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire? Barton told me everything._

" _Your ledger is dripping. It's_ gushing _red and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will_ change _anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer._ Patheic!

" _You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are part of you. And they will_ never…go…away _._

" _I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams, I'll split his skull._

" _This is my bargain, you mewling quim."_

" _You're a monster."_

" _Oh no, you brought the monster."_

" _Banner."  
"What?"_

" _That's your play."_

" _These humans think us gods. Shall we test that?"_

" _You're going to lose."_

" _Am I? Your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress_ falls _from the sky…where exactly_ is _my disadvantage?"_

" _You lack conviction."_

" _Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a headcount here. Your brother, the demigod. A super soldier, living legend who kinda lives up to the legend. A man with_ breathtaking _anger management issues. A couple of master assassins and_ you _, Big Fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them."_

" _That was the plan."_

" _Not a great plan."_

" _Loki, turn off the Tesseract or I will destroy it!"_

" _You can't! There's no stopping it. There is only, the war."_

" _So be it."_

" _Send the rest."_

" _You think this madness will end with your rule?"_

" _It's too late. It's too late to stop it."_

" _We can, together."_

"… _Sentiment."_

" _Enough! You are all of you beneath me! I am a_ god _, you dull creature, and I will not be bullied by –"_

" _If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now."_

Frigga rested her forehead in her hands, and she let the images, the words, fluctuate in her mind like light playing through clear water on the sand beneath.

* * *

 **Cheap chapter, I know. Sorry. Better next time. Promise.**

 **Originally I was gonna separate the _Avengers_ quotes from each other, but during the editing process I realized that I liked this better. I think the confusion of not knowing where/when you are at any given moment adds something to it. **

**I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint too much, but rather, in this setting, sheds light on what a mother's reaction might be to receiving this report of her sons.**


	25. Chapter 25

"It does not sit well with me, Frigga."

She touched his arm, "He will not hurt me," she said. "He can't."

Odin's face remained blank and hard. An expression more, to her experienced eye, of worry than callousness. "He has changed," he said, "much, since last you beheld him."

Her smile was soft and her eyes gentle. His arm was strong under her hand. Glancing up, he met her eyes. "Nevertheless," she said.

Odin bowed his head with a long exhale.

Then he straightened again. He pressed the back of her shoulder. "My queen," he said. "How is it that I cannot refuse you?"

"They do not call you wise, for nothing."

A barely perceptible flash of wry amusement colored his face.

She gentled, "I will do what I can for our son."

"Little as that may be,"

Looking at him more nearly, she asked, "Is this something you have seen? Or felt?"

Gently, holding her arms, he shook his head, "It is merely my fear, my queen. I fear that he should strike you, and you be hurt when it might have been avoided."

"I am his mother," she promised softly. "First and last. He will not hurt me."

"That is precisely both why," Odin released her, turning away, "and how he might."

Frigga stood straight and resolute behind him. "Did we not hurt him, Odin, in the same way, when we withheld the truth?"

Odin stiffened. "We took him as our son. It was our right to withhold that knowledge from him. It only ever would have brought him grief, as you see it has brought all of us now."

"Perhaps," she allowed, very slowly. "But secrets have never held good place within the family. The truth will fly free with time," then, more softly still, "Do you not remember?"

Odin watched her without turning. "You were kinder than most, when you forgave me my duplicity."

"And you showed wisdom then," she said carefully, "allowing me the space for my anger. You did not expect to be forgiven."

Turning to face her, "Nor do I now. Though now," he gave a scoffing laugh, "I have done no wrong."

"See it as he must," she ventured. "If your father –"

He put out one hand to stop her, "I would _not_ be compared to my father."

Pressing her lips she shook her head, "Then how can you help him, if you will not see as he sees?"

Odin watched her from a long moment. Then he said, "Our son sees inaccurately. But there is yet a hope for him. Go to him. I give you my leave."


	26. Chapter 26

Frigga's steps rang sharply in her ears as she walked. She held her head high. She traveled in shadow, as she had so long ago trained Loki to do.

His image was fresh in her mind, as she walked, accompanying her in memory so near the surface that she could almost see him. He had been so small, so eager to learn.

She slid easily under the notice of the prisoners, and even under the eyes of the few guards.

The number of creatures within the dungeons was not great. It never had been. So widespread was Odin's campaign for peace that they had little need of such a place of confinement, here, in the Capitol.

Nearing his cell, she cast both of them in silence. Better that her words to him, or his to her, not be heard.

She had already visited him, once before, that first morning after his return. He had been just barely waking, and she had not meant to be seen by him.

This was to be different.

Loki was sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor of his cell with his eyes fixed on some point beyond the barrier. He gave no sign either of recognition or even of awareness of her presence.

That was unlike him.

He was thin, she thought, surveying him. Gaunt. His cheekbones, always defined, cast shadows on his face. In the harsh light his skin was pale and the bruises he had sustained in that last fight stood out starkly.

She remembered Odin's caution, that she tread with care.

"So," she said, after a long moment. "After all this time, you've returned," she folded her hands before her. "You're alive."

He blinked, once. His eyes found their focus and he smiled, very slowly, at her. "You'll have to send someone more ruthless than Thor if you mean to change that."

"Your brother," she said placidly, "was grieved that you would not return with him willingly."

Loki gave a breath of a laugh, "He's an idiot."

"So you've told me," she said, " _many_ times before."

"And if only you'd listened to me we might not be here now," he smiled sweetly up at her, "Mightn't we?"

She would not be baited by him. "You are healing from your wounds?"

"Well as I might," he said, "here."

The shadows beneath his eyes were only made to look more severe as he tipped his head.

"You ought to sleep," she told him, "That would help you more than anything else."

His glib sarcasm turned to something harder. "Had you a purpose for your visit?" he demanded. "It's not customary for the queen to wander the dungeons. Unless things have changed since my time."

"I came to speak with my son."

"Ah," he tipped his chin up, mockery flashing in his green eyes.

She glanced down at the shawl that was slipping from her arm.

"Come to beg the reprobate reconsider and return home to a mother's arms?"

"Not at all," she straightened the fabric. Glancing up, she saw the surprise flash across his face. How his back straightened and the way his brows came down before he could right himself. She allowed herself something of a smile, "No," she said. "Your future lies on the path _you_ choose, Loki. My pleading would only muddle your decision."

His eyes were hard as he watched her and his mouth twisted in a sneer, "Because clearly _this_ ," he flipped one hand to indicate the cell, "is what I'd choose."

"Well, you have, haven't you?" she chided, "Actions bear consequence in their wake." Then, more gently, "You know this."

He turned his head to one side with a little jerk, and his hands, which had lain loose and open over his knees, curled slowly to fists.

Closing his eyes, he drew a tight breath. "Was that all you came to say to me?"

She considered for a long moment, then asked him, "Will you not tell me what happened?"

"You already know what happened."

He would not turn his head or look at her.

Drawing nearer the barrier, she noticed how his hands shook, and she felt it like a pain in her breast.

"Will _you_ not tell me?" she murmured.

He closed his eyes.

"Get out."

* * *

 **If you want to see that first mother/son interaction where he was still mostly asleep, check out chapter 32 of my fic 'All Rise'. (It's the Loki-centric counterpart to this fic) You don't need to read the rest of the fic for it to make sense. Just know that it starts at the very end of _The Avengers_. **

**I think these next few chapters (most of which will focus on this new phase of Frigga and Loki's relationship - though Thor and Odin WILL make prominent appearances) read better when you KNOW what's going on in Loki's head. He's not one for full-disclosure. I would recommend reading a few chapters of 'All Rise', just to fill-in-the-blanks. Chapters 32 and 33 would do it for now. I explore more of what's actually going on with him in that fic, whereas here, I just go into Frigga's speculation about it.**

 **Then again, if you're just here for Frigga's arc, then go ahead. More power to you. ;)**


	27. Chapter 27

Frigga was perturbed as she walked, but she did not press herself for answer to the questions that swirled just beneath the surface of her mind. To demand answer now, would prompt a rash grasp at first impressions. Better, she told herself, to remain at length in the company of uncertainty than to be certain of wrong.

She walked for a long while in her garden. She closed her eyes and she felt the warmth of the sun on her face.

Thor found her there, sitting on one of the low garden benches.

"Mother," he took her hand as she rose to greet him. She embraced him. "I would have come sooner," he told her, "but there has been much Father would have me do."

"Oh, don't worry after me, Thor," she said, a touch of mockery in her voice. "I'll always be waiting, like any docile mother."

"You are many things," He smiled at her fondly, "Docile not amongst them."

She pressed his hand, "Come," she said. "Walk with me. Much has happened since last we spoke at any length,"

"Much," Thor allowed slowly, "that I am not over-eager to discuss."

Giving a soft breath, she walked beside him in silence for a moment, then said, "He is not so far as you might imagine him, Thor."

"Truly, Mother?" he asked, voice heavy. He did not meet her scrutinizing gaze. He looked straight before him. But the lines of his face had deepened. He was weary of heart, and that weariness shone out of his eyes. Eyes that had once flashed so brightly. "Have you seen him?"

"I spoke with him this morning."

He gave a soft laugh, like a cough. "Does Father know?"

She watched him. "Of course," she said.

"I was given to understand their first meeting went poorly."

"Not so poorly that he would deny me my right," she told him. Giving a soft smile, she pressed his arm, "I _am_ many things."

His mouth quirked toward a smile. But the expression did not touch his eyes.

"I hear you met many of Midgard's finest warriors on your quest," she said. "Will you not tell me of them?"

He gave a long breath and the look he turned on her was soft as he stopped and pivoted wordlessly to face her, taking both of her hands to hold in his own.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"I wondered where we would be without you for our queen," he said, "And I, without you for mother."

Bowing his head, he kissed the back of her hands.

"It would be a hopeless mess," she decided. "Can you _imagine_ your father?"

Thor chuckled.

"Your father has his ways, Thor," she said, her hand resting on his strong arm as they walked. "As I have mine. All is not lost, not yet."

He nodded his head, and when she turned to look at him, his smile was strained. "I hope that you may be right, Mother," he said. "But I have little of belief yet remaining."

* * *

 **That 'first meeting' between Loki and Odin that Thor mentioned is in my fic 'Little Lion Man', chapter 36. You don't need to read the whole fic for that chapter to make sense if you're curious how it went down ;)**


	28. Chapter 28

"I have been remiss," Loki was aware of her approach, this time. Sitting, as he had been on her first visit, cross-legged in the center of the cell's floor. "How has the queen fared in my absence?"

Watching him, she noted that he was no less hollow, no better rested. His manner was sharp, in a kind of forced politeness.

She remembered once, hearing raised voices and rounding the corner to find Thor storming away, leaving his brother with a look on his face – very like that he wore now – but fading to something more of sadness than of anger as Thor strode away.

He was a difficult one to be in conflict with. He turned everything in him to anger and used that as a weapon to drive off pursuit. Pursuit which he ought to have welcomed.

But he relied upon no one besides himself. It had ever been his way.

And, though she had had ample reason, she considered, she had not done much to aid him in that.

"Well enough," she answered him cordially, as though there were no bars between them. "Though, truth be told, my sons have caused me a great deal of worry as late."

"Mm," he turned his head away, unimpressed. "A common complaint."

She looked at him, at the rigid lines of his body. The tremor that worked slowly down his arms and into the hands that rested on his knees.

The bruises had vanished and she thought that in his state it could not have been any kind of glamour. He would need rest if he were to replenish any of his energy.

The cell looked very empty.

"I believed my son dead," she told him. "And when he came back to me, he would not let me help him."

Loki did not look at her, his voice heavy and bitter. "Perhaps he was better as you had thought him."

"Perhaps he thought he was."

"Perhaps he _thought_ ," Loki spat, eyes flashing, "he was many things."

"Loki," she drew nearer and crouched down to be on level with him. "Why will you not let me help you?"

He looked at her very levelly, "What would you have me do?" he asked.

"You know that already."

"And," he glanced quickly down, then back looking at her from under his brows, "you know my answer."

"I know what your father would say of your actions," she watched as his expression tightened, "and I have heard Thor. I would know from _you_ what happened. I would know the truth, Loki."

For one long moment he looked at her. Then he smiled, "Well, perhaps when I feel you're adequately unprepared, I'll share that with you."

Looking down, Frigga sighed, "We never intended to keep it as secret from you forever."

"When?" he flipped his hands palm up on his knees. "When would you have told me?"

"What we did," she closed her eyes, summoning her strength, "we did for your good, Loki. You _must_ understand that."

"For _my_ good?"

"Loki," she pressed, "what you have done –"

He tipped his head to one side, his eyes hard like stone, "What I did," he said, slowly, his voice ragged. "I did," he tipped his chin toward her, "for your good."

His eyes glittered and he did not smile. "You _must_ understand that."

She could only watch him, his eyes blank and flashing and his mouth set.

Finally, she whispered, "Don't make this harder on yourself."

He watched her, then nodded his head in understanding, and looked down. When he raised his head his eyes were guarded, but they did not threaten as they had. His mouth was tipped just a touch sarcastically. "I've made my choice."

And, rising, he made a move with his hand.

Her view of him faded as the illusion spread.


	29. Chapter 29

"Fear not, Mother," Thor laughed. "We will bide home no little time now. I think I've quite had my fill of travel."

" _My_ Thor?" her brows rose mockingly, "Weary of adventure in the Realms?" But she smiled, glad to have him home and safe.

"Adventure no," he chuckled, "but travel fare and wander-weary companions?" he shook his head, "I look forward eagerly to the feasting this night."

She put a hand to the hard muscle of his shoulder. He smiled at her.

"Go and wash up," she said, "I must yet greet your brother."

Thor's face darkened. "You will find him weary and out of sorts, Mother," he cautioned, "He has not been himself these past days. It was of him, chiefly, that I spoke, just now."

A pulse of quick worry raced in her veins. "Has something happened to him?"

"Nothing more than befell the rest of us."

Gently she shook her head, "Nothing perhaps that was visible to you," she said. "You have not always been the most perceptive of companions, Dearest."

"He has even been a fickle creature, Mother," Thor pressed her hand, "Well-given to his moods." He closed the little space between them and planted a strong kiss on her forehead. It struck her how like his father he was, when his father had been young and had won her from her father's house. "Do not allow it to trouble you."

"I _will_ allow it to trouble me," she said, "if it concerns one of my sons. Would you not have it so, Thor," she cupped his rough cheek in her palm, wondering that it had once been the face of her baby, "if it were you?"

"Well," he gave his sudden smile, "Yes. But it wouldn't be."

She laughed at him, "Get along with you."

He clasped her hand, and then he was gone, leaving her alone with her new worry for her younger son.

Quickly, she went to his door. It wasn't shut as she had expected it to be, so, she tapped on the doorframe.

"Yes?"

She could see him within. He stood with his back to the door, his head bowed as he worked at some thing spread on the table. He did not turn.

"Hello Loki," she came into the room.

"Oh," he said, "Hello Mother."

His voice was dismissive. She couldn't recall a reception this cold from him in all their years.

"How was your trip?" she asked, lightly, nearing him.

He did not look up, busy with his hands.

"Well enough."

"'Well enough?'" she laughed, "Is that _all_ I am to hear?" she came up to the table beside him and leaned back against it, attempting to see his face.

She missed the way he had been when he was little.

"If you wish for a tale," he said, "ask Thor. He's full enough of them."

His tone was sharper, and she frowned. "Loki," she asked, "has something happened?"

He didn't answer her. He straightened from the table and turned all in one fluid motion, making for the door.

"What are you doing?"

He stopped, then faced her with his chin angled a little to one side, watching her, as though the question was one he couldn't follow.

But she didn't move and eventually he seemed to realize the question. He tipped a little forward on his feet with both brows raised and his mouth twisted towards a smirk.

"I'm leaving."

The word struck like a blow. "Leaving?"

He said it with finality. As though he were going away for good.

She found that she couldn't quite catch her breath. "Where?"

His brows furrowed, incredulous and amused. "Does it matter?"

She shook her head to clear it, "Where are you going, Loki?"

Anger flashed and surfaced in his eyes, "Away from here," he said. "This, _place_ , holds no claim on me."

The way he spat the word burned her.

He saw it and his lips curved in a cruel arc as he lifted his chin, "Did you think I would need you forever?" He was coming toward her, and, stepping back, she met with the hard edge of the table. "That I would never one day come into my true birthright?"

"Loki," she whispered. This was not her boy. This was – Something terrible had – She searched his face for answer, "What has happened to you?"

He drew back from her then, so tall and cold as he looked down his nose at her, "Why should you care?" he scoffed, "Of _all_ people."

As he said it, he turned his head away. He would not look at her as he spoke the words. Loki's power was in his voice, and in those moments, his eyes betrayed him.

There was a hurt there, fear and pain.

Seeing that, she straightened, gathering the strength of her position, her power over him. She loved him. Somewhere beneath this madness, beneath whatever it was that had happened to him, he _knew_ that.

"I am your mother," she told him.

He was too close, then. Too cold. And very tall as he met her eyes.

"No," he said. "You're not."

With a cold shock Frigga woke into the dimness of the early morning. Her breast heaved unevenly. Mild wind lifted the sunset-colored curtains that barred her inner chamber in the summertime from the balcony without. She could see the balcony ledge through the thin billowing fabric and the orange and pink glow of the sunrise.

The wind lifted the damp curls on her forehead. She focused on that. On the breeze, on the smell of it. On the hard outline of the stone balcony outside. On the softness of the curtain.

Her hands were warm against her face.

In a sudden, impatient gesture she got out of her bed, snatched up her wrap and, pulling it about herself, she went out onto the balcony. She hugged herself against the breeze. She savored the wind that lifted the hair from her neck and tried to let it carry away the memory of that dream. The cold disavowal of her son.

Closing her eyes, she thought back. She dragged together everything she could of what she had seen, every word he had spoken.

Thor had seen in him madness, madness that had somehow vanished on his return to Asgard. In his eyes no longer was the glint that she had seen in her visions, brought to her by the Gatekeeper. The mad tilt to his mouth and the hungry grasping laugh were gone. Now he was tired, broken. Older and stronger than he had been when he fell, and striking out at all who offered him help.

Ever had he done so, when he had felt weak. Though with her, he would have allowed that defense to fall away. But now he no longer trusted her. She was every bit as culpable as Odin.

And as necessary as their deception had been, the manner of its revelation had been cruel.

They ought to have told him.

Drawing a slow breath, she recalled that she had ever thought such, ever since he had neared manhood. But Odin's reasoning held. She could not promise that her actions would have differed, had she known all that would follow. And besides all else, it was past. No amount of regret could alter it.

With a long exhale, she let it go. She drew her thoughts back to her son.

She felt the light of the rising sun warm on her upturned face.

This was not madness. This was frustration assuredly, confusion, hatred perhaps, but not madness.

On Earth, he had spoken often and disparagingly of freedom. Now he mocked the idea of choice. He refused to speak of the time he had been hidden from their sight.

Opening her eyes, Frigga remembered the men Loki had chosen, and the stone in his possession.

Tears sprang into her eyes.

"Oh, my son," she whispered.

Pressing her hands together, she held them to her lips and she closed her eyes.

It had been nearly a moon since Loki had returned home.

And they had so far to go.

* * *

 **Gratuitous dream-chapter. But I really liked the image. And also showing Frigga as being as lucid a dreamer as both her sons are.**


	30. Chapter 30

It was a long while that she thought on it before Frigga told Odin of her suspicions.

She visited Loki. He snarled and spat. He told her little. But what little he spoke, and – perhaps more importantly to her practiced eye – _did not_ speak, fed the misgiving that had been growing in her heart.

Odin looked at her with his eye inscrutable.

He told her such suspicion had long been in his mind.

"But can we do nothing?"

"Not unless he himself breathe word of it," Odin answered her, weight and weariness laced within the words. "You know as well as I of what he is capable. You know how already the people speak."

"If it were lie," she asked, "might he not have used it to win our sympathy? Even mine? Is not his very refusal of such things testament to their probability? Thor said that he was unlike himself throughout their time together."

"It _cannot_ ," Odin snapped, "be proven without his testimony."

He turned wearily away from her.

"Odin," she touched his arm.

"I dare not lead him." Squaring his shoulders, Odin raised his head, "He must bear the consequences of his obstinacy, at the very least. And it would be no bad thing for him to learn humility, as Thor has." She smiled a little, glancing down, and she heard Odin sigh, "I know well _that_ look. Speak your thoughts,"

She raised her face to look more directly at him, "It would be no bad thing for all of us to learn to cherish that virtue."

He softened thinly, pressing her hand.

"Continue to visit him," he said. "See what it is he might let slip. Ever has he been more free with you. I know," he stepped away from her. Gungnir rang against the stone floor, as he went to the ledge looking out towards the cliffs, "you will say this is only the product of my own actions. But there is no changing the past now."

She drew up behind him. "He does love you, Odin."

Odin gave a dry laugh.

She laced her fingers with his. "He will remember it, in time."

For a while, Odin only looked out the great window. Then he nodded his head and without a word, he left her to see about his duties.

She went to visit her son.


	31. Chapter 31

She heard him before she saw him.

As she worked open the barrier, she knew what the guard would say, had he any awareness of her. She heard the men when she walked without attendant. They spun tales of things that had never happened during hers son's sojourn on Midgard. She knew they would tell her this was only a trick to make someone open the gate.

He had no reason to believe she was watching. And he would not have trusted in the guards to inform her. Nor would he have shown such vulnerability for a gamble.

She knew his fool-pride only too well.

And it had been a long while that he fled sleep.

Throwing the barrier back, catching her skirts up in her hands, she slipped unnoticed within the cell.

He was on the bed, thrashing, making some awful sound that was worse than a scream in its simple desperation.

She shut the door behind her, though she doubted he would make any move for it, even should she have left it wide. He had always ignored the obvious when he was in pain.

It was a trait she had neglected to reckon with, and one that she ought never have forgotten.

"Shh," unbidden, the soothing whispers that all mothers use on their children slipped from her tongue as she knelt by the bed. He would need that, she thought – need her – though he would no doubt dislike admitting it. "Loki," she moved her hand, softly drawing back his long hair from his face. "Loki," she whispered, "wake up."

He thrashed, turning his face away from her, and the sound he made made the blood run cold in her breast.

Since he'd returned to her, he had been harsh, biting. This was the first she had seen of the boy she prayed still lurked beneath and it made her mother's heart weep, though her voice remained strong.

She brought her power to her fingertips, tracing lightly on his shoulder, "All is well, my son," she murmured. The cell walls were glaring and white around her and it took all her will to ignore them. "Come back to me."

With a jerk, he drew tighter on the bed, beginning to wake. The sound choked off in his throat and he gasped for breath.

She stroked his shoulder, "Shh,"

Abruptly, he woke. He threw her off, lurching out of the bed and half-tripping on the blanket that tangled around his feet.

"Don't _touch_ me," he spat.

He'd gone to the far side of the cell, as far as he could get from her reach. He was panting and his hand shook as he raised it to press the hair back from his face. His eyes were wide and still barely focused.

He was afraid.

Glancing at her, he came more in possession of himself, though that in no way reassured her. Ever since childhood he'd been loath to show fear.

He turned his eyes on the floor, his mouth pressed thin and shamed. He swallowed thickly between his gasping breaths.

She had seen him go through so much pain.

He closed his eyes and she watched him as he forced himself to breathe. She watched how, still, his hands shook, and she saw how the skin of his face and neck was beaded with sweat.

She had seen the Chitauri. She had heard all that had transpired while he was on Earth.

The confirmation of suspicions shouldn't have come as a shock, but Frigga felt her heart drop and beat cold in her stomach. Her hands twisted in her lap.

What she had considered and in part doubted she could mistrust no longer.

Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes, and it wasn't until she heard the broken whisper on the air that she knew she had spoken it.

" _What_ did they do to you?"

He was looking at her with his eyes wide.

For one moment, all hung in the balance. She saw the fault lines. The broken places that made up her son. The fear and the hurt and the parts of him that wanted no more than to come home.

But in the next heartbeat it was gone, pressed back behind an unsteady breath and a ragged smile. He knew she could see through it, as he turned his head away. "Nothing I did not allow," he told her, roughly.

Her strength was returning to her and she got to her feet. "That is not as your dreams would have it."

His hands raked through his tangled hair, pushing it back. He gave an unsteady, mirthless laugh, "Are dreams truth now, then?" he asked. He turned with one of his quick, sharp movements and went around the room, careful, she noticed, to avoid her reach, "Because _I_ , had a dream, once," he sat cross-legged on the bed, tipping his chin back to face her, "that I had a father, and a brother too, who cared for me."

"Loki," she chided.

The muscles in his jaw shifted as he closed his teeth and stared at the wall.

She gentled, lacing the words with promise she _prayed_ would bear fruit, "do not doubt their love," she said.

He looked up at her then, and he wanted to believe her. She saw it in his eyes. His eyes that would always betray him.

Her heart rose, but by then he'd looked past her. He scanned out the confines of the cell before meeting her eyes again.

"Oh," he breathed, flashing a false smile. "I don't doubt it."


	32. Chapter 32

"To what do I owe this?" she laid her book aside and rose, beaming, to greet her son.

"I shall not remain long," Thor cautioned her.

"One comes to expect little more after a time."

He gave a weary breath of a laugh.

He had been given little time to recover from his trip to Earth. Already the better part of three months had passed and he looked no better than he had when first he returned home. If anything, he was worse.

"Come," she said, betraying no sign of her thoughts, "I have been sitting over long and would walk a while."

"All right,"

"Unless you would rather sit?" she questioned him, "It is not unheard of for a son to come to his mother for refreshment,"

His laugh had little more life to it, but the glint did touch his eyes, "No," he said, "I would rather…" a frown flashed across his brow, "…move."

Then the look was gone.

Frigga knew better than to press him.

They came out from under the great archways of the palace and into the sun. "Your father has given you little enough rest," she commented.

"It," he faltered, "is as I would have it, Mother."

For a time, they walked in silence. Then, "You are not as you were, not so long ago," she ventured.

"The world is not as I took it to be," he said, "How could I, knowing that, remain the same?"

"Mm," _How indeed_ , she thought. And she remembered her son in the dungeons below. "It will rest better with me," she said, "when this disturbance among the realms is set right."

Thor said nothing. He glanced at the stones on which they walked.

"You do not feel the same?" she asked.

"I…" he raised his eyes, "see not the end of my path so near."

She watched him, and she remembered the bright, happy boy he had been. For all his faults, he had had joy. And she sorely missed its presence in him. He had strength, though. It would return to him.

"All will be well, Thor," she promised softly, "in time."

He gave a thin smile, but did not otherwise answer.

"Have you spoken to your father?"

"No more than in the giving of order or report. There is much that must be done. And even the space of eternity seems little in which to accomplish the whole of it."

"The work might go the more quickly," she said, "should the workers be less fatigued."

He smiled. "I appreciate your worry, Mother. But I have neither the time, nor even yet the desire for rest. I," he faltered again, looking at the ground, "I do not expect you to understand, but," he raised his blue eyes to look out over the city which sprawled just beyond the wall they had come to. "I feel more solace in the rage of battle than in the feasts and resting that follow. I had thought it only grief but," he shook his head, "The feeling does not leave me."

"Much has changed," she said, "in little time. You find solace in work, as ever you have."

"I…did not think that you would understand."

"You forget," she said, looking over the city, "I, too, have been a warrior, in my time."

"Yes," he smiled, lowering to his forearms, leaning over into the light breeze. "I do forget that, sometimes." For a moment, he looked the boy he'd once been, with his eyes bright and the wind blowing back his hair, and, just for one moment, she wondered how it might have all been differently.

But that realm was one best not to know. The world before was the one given. It bred only heartache to pursue what could no longer be.

"However," she said. "Warrior or no, I would not have my son hurt," she touched his arm, "whether it be by his own hand or that of another."

"Nor would I," he answered.

"Then we are in agreeance," she smiled at him.

Somewhere high above them, on the walls of the palace, a bird screeched, and dove down through the clear sky, down and down towards the city below.

"You miss her?"

Thor looked at her quizzically, then nodded, "Jane. Of course," he said. He turned back to look over the wall. "I do. But that is not the whole of it. Asgard is not to me what she once was."

"Yet still you miss your brother."  
"I will not speak of Loki." Thor straightened, the darkness that had hid behind his eyes barred on his face. "No more than this. I have given it much thought these past months. Do not think, Mother, that I pronounce my judgement lightly. He has gone beyond reach." Leaning heavily on his hands, he turned his head away from her. "I have lost him the more truly than I had when I had thought him only deceased. Ask me any other thing, Mother, but I lost my brother to the Void. This thing that bears his shape is no more the man whose love I cherished."

She touched the hand he rested on the wall, steadying him.

At length, he asked, "You yet harbor hope for him?"

"Yes."

Thor straightened from the wall. "You have a strength, Mother, unlike any I have ever known. I can only pray," he bent over her hand, pressing it to his lips, "that, one day, I will be for you a worthy son."

"Thor," she took his hand, meeting his eyes directly with her own. "Always."


	33. Chapter 33

"AllMother," he acknowledged her entry.

She had visited him many times before in these past months, like this, coming into the cell to sit with him. She thought to come more often than she had made it her habit to do, but it was no bad thing, she considered, for Loki to feel the gravity of his situation. His obstinacy and pride were not appreciated by his father, and, for all her love of him and her concern, she often found his flippancy trying.

Not once had Loki made any move for the door as she came or went. He sat, as he usually did, on the low bed, and he watched the guard who stood without, until the man had turned and gone beyond his line of sight.

He viewed the man with a slight quirk to his mouth. Then he looked at her. "Are _you_ afraid of me?" he asked.

It had all faded to some kind of odd normalcy between them.

"Afraid?" she asked, straightening her long skirts, "No. Not of you. I have never feared you, Loki, though I do fear what you might do, free of this cell."

He gave a soft, wry laugh, "Wise," he allowed.

"Might I sit?" she asked.

"Oh, be my guest," he gestured magnanimously with his hand to the chair she had had brought down for him, a few weeks ago. "It is not every day I entertain guests. I must apologize for the state of things. I wasn't expecting you today or I would have had it cleaned up."

Besides the bed and the chair, there was naught else.

She did not answer him, but coolly took the seat he indicated.

"How go events in the upper world?" he asked. "Word travels slowly, here, should it venture this far."

It was treason, to share political information with the prisoners of the AllFather. But not, she judged, with her son. "There is unrest," she said carefully. "Your father," she noted the way he grimaced, but she did not comment, "and brother are busy every moment trying to reinstate stability amid the Realms."

"Surely that must be where they have been this whole time, then." He gestured open-handed to her, as if by way of explanation. "I've seen nothing of either of them recently."

She gave him a pointed look. "A pity you haven't thought to visit them yourself."

"Well," his voice was still lazy, but she heard the strain running under it, "you see my current position."

"A position easily enough gotten out of."

"Yes?" he flashed, "and what if I would not do as you would ask? What if it is no more _complicated_ than _Thor_ would have you know? What then?"

"Then," she said lowly, matching the sharp rise in his anger with the steadiness of her own, " _you_ will remain as _you_ are."

His laugh was mirthless, as he stood. "You've always been so _kind_ , so _gentle_." he spat the words. He paced to the back side of the room. "Does it never pain you? To think of all I've done? It hurts Thor so that he won't so much as _look in on_ me."

"He has lost much faith in you,"

"Mm, and you haven't."

She smiled, "I am your mother. Ever have I seen you at your best, and your worst, Loki."

He sneered at her, "You still believe there's something to _save_ ," he paced to the far wall. "You see in me nothing more than the child I _was_ ," he rounded on her, "You think I didn't mean _every_ action that I took on Midgard? You _ought_ to fear what I would do free of this cell," he snarled, "for I would crush that favored realm to rubble without a _thought_."

"I know that you are angry, but this behavior is beneath you."

"And what of Thor?" he flashed, "What of the blood he's _wasted_? What of Odin's wars? They know, _nothing_ of what it is they do. They know _nothing_ of what's to come."

"Why will you not tell me?"

He leaned his arm against the corner of the cell, his eyes fixed on the world without, his hand fisted and all the anger pulled back and roiling within his eyes and the hard set of his mouth.

Involuntarily she took a step nearer him, "My son," she asked, "what is it that you know?"

"What is it that I know?" he looked at her and tears glittered in his eyes, "I know, that what remained of your son was slaughtered by the _horrors_ churning within the Void. I know, that am _every bit_ the monster your son would make me out to be. And I _know_ that you should let me go, as Father," his breath snagged for just one moment before he recovered himself, "and as Thor have done. There is nothing left in me that is worth your labor."

Softly, she drew nearer him.

"I would contest that."

He gave a harsh laugh, "Of course you would. The Queen of Asgard, ever merciless in her very compassion." His hand traced across his forehead. "Your heart proves you a fool."

"Would you not hear what I have to say?"  
His eyes were closed, and he looked drained as he drawled, "I'm _all_ ears."

"You did not kill your brother," she said. "You let him return to me."

He laughed thinly, resting his forehead on his arm, "Since when have I posed threat to Thor?"

"Since you knew his every weakness."

"Moot." Loki turned from the wall and looked at her. It was as though his outburst had drained the will all out of him. His eyes were listless. "I could never have beaten him."

"Not alone."

At this, he laughed. Coming past her in the little cell, he looked back and smiled, "I had an army."

"Of brutes," she folded her hands. "And what of your war?"

"What of it?" he scoffed, sinking into the chair. "It failed in its object."

Slowly, she smiled, "But did it?"

"I don't know," he sighed, lifting his head out of his hand, "Why don't you tell me."

Frigga stood with her hand to the frame of the barrier, watching him.

Then, "The Chitauri were a mercenary force. There are those who can be paid to find out such things. You know this as well as I do."

She paused and his head lolled back, from which position he smirked at her, "It's hardly an argument, Mother."

"I am not finished. Sit up straight."

Rolling his eyes, he straightened, marginally.

"Mercenaries serve masters," she told him, "You were not he."

"I commanded them," he asked, lazily examining his hand, "Did I not?"  
"You served another. And that unwillingly."

He stiffened and his tone was sharper as he said, "It makes no difference. He would have given me the Earth to do with as I yet will."

"In return for an Infinity Stone? Loki," she shook her head, "I taught you better than that. And why, if you were contented, did you call to me? I would never have found you in the Void had I not felt your call."

"And your point?" he demanded, eyes hard. "Not that it _changes_ anything."

"You were found," she said slowly. She watched as he went slowly pale and his hands closed on the arms of the chair. "Found in the Void and taken, broken to some Other Power's will and placed at the head of His army, because you were expendable to Him."

His breath quickened barely perceptibly, and he turned away, looking out somewhere, beyond the confines of his cell.

She had known it was true.

Frigga lowered herself beside him, to better see his face. "Loki," she brushed her fingertips against the back of his hand. He jerked, but he did not draw away. She peered into his face, searching his eyes, "why did you not tell me?"

Beneath her fingers his hands opened and closed. He took a long breath, then answered, stiffly, "It changes nothing."

"Midgard would have been taken," she said lowly, "unawares, and our first line of defense truly broken, had Thanos moved without our seeing him."

He looked at her, "It changes _nothing_ ," he spat.

Closing her hand over the back of his she shook her head, "No, Loki, it changes _everything_. If you would only tell all this to your father –"

"That will not happen."

"Loki –"

"What of the thousands I killed?" he demanded, pushing past her and onto his feet. "Innocent lives, snuffed out in my rush for prominence. No. He will do _nothing_. And _he need not_. I will engineer my own escape and I will crush that realm and its heroes to dust beneath my boot ere I rest." He turned about, facing her, "You see only what you wish to see. I am a monster and the next time, I will not fail in my purpose."

"The agent whom you killed was right," she decided, at length. "I see none of what you speak beyond your eyes."

"Oh," he smiled as he looked at her, and it was one of those times she could see the madness he'd shown on Midgard. "So you've seen, then. How much did you see, _Mother_ from your place on the Great Throne? Did it break your heart to see what I've become?"

"It grieves me to see the damage you've done –"

" _I_ have done!" he hit the wall of the cell with the side of one fist. "What damage have _I_ caused that my brother or Odin have not caused tenfold?"

"What they have done, Loki, they have not done out of the darkness of their hearts –"

He started laughing.

Her voice rose, angry that he should make of even her a mockery, "but out of a true desire for the betterment of the realms."

"What do _you_ know of darkness?" he snapped.

"I know enough."

"Oh," he drawled, turning back from her, folding his arms before him and resting his shoulder on the wall beside him, "I'm _sure_ you do."

Standing, she looked at him and she was _tired_ to her very bones.

"Come back to the light, my son," she said, "Before the darkness swallows you."

He looked at her, and his eyes were too bright in his face, his smile mirthless.

"Too late."

She studied him. "Am I to give up, then, on my son?"

Resignedly, he folded his hands behind him. He said nothing. His eyes were black and very hard.

She gave a short nod, "So be it."

Leaving him, she thought that she would return in a day or two. But she would not prompt him. It was for him to better his situation. If he would not accept her help then she would not force him.


	34. Chapter 34

Months passed and the time since the conflict on Midgard had been nearly a year.

Once again, Frigga went to visit her son in his cell beneath the city.

He was lying on the bed, with one arm extended languidly above the headboard, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling.

At her entrance he rolled to a seated position. He didn't quite meet her eyes.

"What today?" he asked.

Frigga took her accustomed seat. "Hello Loki," she said. She gave him a smile that was only a little strained. "How have you been?"

He shot her a suspicious glance.

"I have a headache that won't go away," he said, finally.

He was fidgeting. Uneasy. It did not escape her.

"I am sorry to hear that," she said. "I could bring something…"

He shrugged and his eyes flickered up to meet hers. "Don't bother." He got to his feet, going to look out of the glowing barriers, putting his back towards her. "It will go away on its own eventually," he gave her a quick glance from behind his shoulder, "everything does."

Ignoring his sullen tone, Frigga smoothed her skirts. "You have not seen your father recently," she said.

"No," Loki murmured. "I'm sure he's busy. He sent three prisoners to cells further down, which tells me the more conveniently located cells are full. I'd imagine his _wars_ go very well. It's all been very diverting for me. Sometimes," he almost looked at her then, his mouth tilted sarcastically, "the guards turn _left_ , instead of merely turning about and coming straight back."

Watching him with her head tipped a little to one side, Frigga sighed.

Loki's hand came up slowly, like he didn't notice it, and pushed at a place in his chest. He took a long breath.

Frigga waited, to see if he might speak, but he did not. He didn't so much as turn from the barrier.

Then, straightening her skirt again, Frigga said, "What purpose did you have, Loki? In all that you did."

"Oh," he gave a breathy laugh, "this again? Can we talk of nothing else?"  
She eyed the hard set of his shoulders coolly. "Is there anything of equal importance?"

His head dipped down, "You'd know better than I," he straightened.

"Well?"

"I did it," he turned around, his mouth quirked in a smile that was all angles, "to make you as proud," he caught his breath, "as you were of Thor."

The smile was not in his eyes, but she had come to expect that.

"Your father believes it so," she said. "He claims that your hunger is insatiable and that it is useless for me to placate you with visits."

"Oh," he purred lowly, his back to her again, "But you don't?"

Even with his back to her, she could see he was out of breath.

More out of breath than he ought to be.

Frigga rose to her feet. "Loki," she said, "What's wrong?"

Dragging an awful breath, he looked at her. His skin was white and covered with a sheen of sweat. "What's _wrong_?" he rasped. Breathlessly, he started to laugh. His hand pressed against the center of his chest, his fingers fisting unconsciously in the material.

"Come here," she said, "You need to sit down." She took his arm and led him to the bed.

Tripping over his foot, he complied, folding double on the bed over his arm. The hand that shielded his face was shaking.

Frigga sat beside him. Finding the hand that fisted against his side, she worked it gently open and took it.

Loki's hand closed around hers.

"Just breathe," she said. "Just breathe, Loki."

Finally, the tension began to ease out of him. His breaths became easier.

He did not let go of her hand, and she didn't know if it was because he did not remember taking it, or if he was only feigning that slip.

Either way, she gave it no attention.

When he had been quiet some time, she asked, "Are you all right?"

Drawing a long, shuddering breath, Loki lifted his face out of his hand and only half-covered his chin with it. "Fan _tas_ tic," he drawled.

Heartened, Frigga almost smiled. "Has," she thought about the question and at length decided, " _that_ , happened before?"

Loki rubbed his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to _me_ ," she said. Unconsciously, her hand had tightened on his, and he drew his away.

Finally, he looked at her over his folded hands. "A few times."

Looking at him, her head tilted a little to one side. The place behind her eyes pricked. "And your headache?" Unconsciously, she raised one hand, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

Drawing a breath he looked away and he rose to his feet. "I'm fine," he said roughly.

Getting to her feet, Frigga went one step after him before she stopped herself. "I've always been proud of you," she said. His head turned sharply away from her so she could see none of his face. "Why," she whispered, "won't you come back to me?"

He didn't say anything, and he didn't turn.

She waited until her voice was hers once again.

She lifted her head.

In all that time, he had not moved.

Lifting her skirts, she took her leave.


	35. Chapter 35

"How was he?"

"Obstinate," Odin said. "Irreverent,"

Frigga found that she had smiled. She had hoped after their last encounter – only two days past – that his time in confinement had finally worn him down. But after seeing him, even only for the first moments of his audience with Odin, she had not expected it.

Odin glanced at her as they walked. "You expected no more from him?"

"I hoped," she said, "But no. Not after seeing him as he entered. He was more docile the last time we spoke."

She remembered him, bent double over his arm, and how tightly he had gripped her hand.

"I will not," Odin said slowly, "have you visit him again."

Sharply, Frigga raised her head. She looked into his face. "You told him this?"

"He is aware."

It had been a long while since Loki's return home. He had given her little reason to believe any of the hopeful things to which she had clung in those first days – that his heart might be clean of the guilt for the actions he had taken. But, he was alive. And, one day, she was sure, they would find a way out of all of this. Peace had all-but returned to the Realms. Thor was set to return within the month.

A year was a long-enough time to come to terms with the new way of things.

For a long moment, she watched her husband.

She had sent some furniture to Loki's cell, and, she thought, perhaps this evening, or tomorrow, she would send some books. She would not have his mind further damaged by his imprisonment, which he decreed to be a long one. He would need things with which to occupy the time, besides rumination on the past and the changing of the guard.

And, she thought with no little satisfaction, _she_ might choose the books.

Perhaps she would send some other things…trifles…something to divert his mind.

And…a mirror.

Thinking of it, she gave a soft smile. She remembered his preening as a youth and she thought, that, given enough time and so little else upon which to look, seeing the glass, he might – one day – again begin to recognize _himself_ in his reflection.

Then, calmly, she swallowed her thoughts and she nodded her head.

"You have no intention of heeding my words."

She glanced at him, "Did you intend that I should?"

Odin gave a long breath, and she felt his weariness as though it were her own.

"No," he said. "Such will do far more to prove your devotion to him than any words."

Loki had ever been clever with his own tongue, she thought. No wonder he trusted actions above all.

"Better he remember," Odin held his head high, "that he loves you. Even should he hate all others first in order best to recall it."


	36. Chapter 36

**Just gonna admit it in advance. This is a deleted scene.**

* * *

"You still see good in him, don't you?"

Frigga glanced to her left and saw him standing, fresh from travel, framed from the doorway, and her heart softened. "Thor," she smiled, leaving the book she'd considered in its place on the shelf and turning from the table that stood behind her. "Welcome home, Son."

It should not, she considered, have surprised her that Thor might deduce in a glance what it was that she worked at, secreted here in the wing of the Archives that had once been among Loki's most-frequented haunts.

"Why indulge him?" Thor asked, coming to meet her, "the gifts? the visits?"

Leaving the stack of books she'd already chosen on the table behind her, Frigga went to her son and took his strong arm in hers. She led him toward the great, wide doors, wondering what it was Thor had come to find in the Archives, and if he had known that she would be there. "I think if you ask his guards," she smiled at him, voicing none of her thoughts, "they will tell you I was never there."

"Mother, Loki is not the boy you once knew," he cautioned.

"Nor are you," she countered, leading him up the steps from the Archives and toward the beckoning sunshine, "and I loved you no less when your father banished you to Earth."

Gently, he looked down at her. "Do you ever regret sharing your magic with him?" he asked.

"No," she said. "You and your father cast large shadows. I had hoped that by sharing my gifts with Loki that he could find some sun for himself."

Thor looked out over the horizon in the way his father had and his eyes bore a weariness she had hoped might spare him. "I admire your optimism," he told her, "your compassion. I wish I could still share it."

From somewhere without, in the wide, bright sunshine, a bird trilled.

Coming to a stop, Frigga let go of his arm and turned, smiling up at him and taking his hands in both of hers, distancing him from the depths towards which he looked. "Now am I to take it by your presence that the Nine Realms still stand?"

"Yes, they do," he smiled back. "I came to give Father the good news."

"And you thought to find him here?" she mocked gently, "You will find him where he is most at ease."

"I know," he said. "I wished to tell you first." He pressed one hand warmly to her elbow. "Thank you, Mother," he said.

She folded her hands before her as she watched her elder son striding down the way towards the training grounds, and she thought of her younger son, as she had last seen him, standing before his father.

It was a gentler thing, this wound. Easier spoken of, easier put down. But no less present.

And so far yet to go.

* * *

 **Most of this is a deleted scene that I'm 91% positive I found on the Bluray edition of TDW. Should have been an easy scene to write, yes? Only thing is, I forgot the order of events of TDW. The deleted scene is SUPPOSED to take place after Loki and Frigga have their conversation. Then Thor startles her and she gets all cute and flustered like a little girl caught stealing cookies (if you doubt me, find it. I'm sure it's on youtube.) Then Thor goes on to speak with Odin.**

 **However. In the movie, the Frigga/Loki interaction hasn't happened yet. It DOESN'T happen until the next morning. After her interaction with Loki, Frigga goes outside and finds Thor and Jane talking.**

 **Long-story-short, I had to re-work some things. Promise there's more coming, and I'm sorry it's been so long. I had some IW one-offs to get out of the way ;)**


	37. Chapter 37

**I find it hard to believe, but I started publishing this over a year ago. Time, is an elusive thing.**

 **The beginning is a deleted scene that is easy to find on youtube. I felt that it explained Loki's surprise when Frigga was intangible. (Makes the whole thing sadder too, I thought). Any recognizable bits arn't mine!**

 **Thank you so much for all your interest and support through this fic!**

* * *

She heard it before she saw it.

Recalling distractions Loki had built for himself as a child, Frigga's smile was strained. She'd opened a channel through the barriers in Loki's cell, warded from all scrutiny. Odin would not be able to locate her entry point any more than Loki would. Her mission was doubly warded. She'd expected that he would feel the change immediately, but he'd made more of the trickle she had allowed than she would have thought possible.

The illusion had spread and filled out the cell, casting it a shadow-image of the Great Hall. Her own illusion taking semblance of form in the space, she bent her head back, appreciating the pennants that hung magnificently from the beams overhead, and the press of people jostling together and cheering.

She felt the breeze from the open causeway against her face.

Truly, Loki knew every detail of the Great Hall. He'd captured it perfectly as it had stood two years ago, on the day of Thor's failed coronation.

Loki had placed himself alone on the dais, before all of them. His back was turned to her, so he had no idea of her approach. There had been few times since childhood he had not heard her coming, but she attributed that to the illusion before him. It was undeniably compelling. The amount of detail he had drawn up and spewed out before him was impressive. He had always, she considered, been capable of much, given little.

He wore a red cape with a great fur collar and he held aloft Mjollnir, called to his open hand by his own power. Thor's colors, Thor's gift. She would that he had learned to treasure his own.

This was _his_ coronation, though. None of them, she noticed, were in evidence. Neither Thor nor Odin, nor even herself. She did her best to not be hurt by that. It was a childish display, born of bitter helplessness. She would not be baited by it.

Taking a deep breath, she interrupted him. "Loki," she said.

The hand bearing the shadow-Mjolnir lowered, though the illusion did not fade, and Loki did not turn his head.

When she had caught him at his play-acting, once, when he had been but a child, he had been ashamed. He'd cast the illusion aside and averted his eyes, stammering that he'd been busy, and that he was sorry, he had not heard her knock. The flush had risen from his neck all the way to the line of his hair.

That shame did not so much as touch him now.

She folded her hands before her, "What are you doing?"

He looked at her over his shoulder, his grin wide and unabashed. The answer was self-evident. He knew the question for the test it was. Even so, he didn't hesitate. "I'm giving the people what they want."

A part of her had expected him to show surprise at seeing her. But, she reasoned, they knew one another better than that.

His tone had been exuberant. He was dulling himself, distracting his mind with temporary shadow-joys that could only leave him haunted in the end. "Does it make you feel better?" she asked, letting her tone carry the touch of her displeasure.

The smile was gone when he looked back at her. "It certainly doesn't make me feel any _worse_ ," he sulked.

Softly, she shook her head, "Cast enough illusions," she lifted her eyes to find his once more on his world, looking it over, amusement winked out as the feeble candle flame it was, "and you risk forgetting what is real."

He continued for a moment to stare at it all, spread out beneath him. His face was blank, a mask to hide his misery. "Precisely," he breathed.

Then he let it go.

Drawing a long breath, he clasped his hands behind him. He would not look at her. Even at his most ebullient, he'd never been wholly comfortable showing his nearest thoughts. Her unannounced intrusion nettled him, she could see that, though he would not address it. To do so would be to concede her a victory in their little war, and he was never one to give ground.

For herself, she could not blame him. He'd learned that stubbornness from her.

It was the senseless _pride_ he'd gotten from his father.

The motion of guards and the new prisoners from Vanaheim caught his eye and he went to the far screen, pausing before it to admire the distraction he so obviously desired. There wasn't much to hide behind in his cell, she thought. And Loki had from the first employed diversion.

"Odin continues to send me new friends," he drawled, "how _thoughtful_."

"The books I sent," she asked, moving nearer him, to the center of the room. "Do they not interest you?"

Turning, he put the daybed between them, "Is that how I am to while away eternity?" he asked, facing her squarely from his place where she could not reach him, " _reading_?"

"I've done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Loki."

"Hm," he leaned forward, bracing his hands against the side arm of the furniture he'd sought shelter behind. "Does _Odin_ , share your concern?"  
Every time she visited him, it was the same. Raising her brows, she thought how much a child he yet was, and how very far they had yet to travel to make this right.

"Does Thor?" he pressed. Then he looked away, brow wrinkled in mock sympathy, "It must be _so_ inconvenient, them asking after me day and night,"

"You know full well it was your actions that brought you here," she said.

" _My_ actions," he raised his brows, gesturing with his hand as though to direct her attention to an image. He moved, then, facing away from her, "I was merely giving truth to the lie that I'd been fed my entire life," he paced to the far corner of the cell, looking bitterly out at the little that could be seen of the movement without, "that I was born to be a king."

"A king?" she demanded, moving no nearer, prompting him to turn.

He did, watching her with his eyes almost black in his pale face.

"A _true_ king admits his faults," she said. "What of the lives you took on Earth?"

 _Admit something_ , she prompted him. _Tell me the truth._

"A mere _handful_ compared to the number Odin has taken himself," he spat. Turning away he paced further to the next corner of the cell. A caged thing, itching at its confinement.

"Your father –"

" _He's not my father_!" he whirled on her.

He stopped there, breath heavy, eyes abruptly blank.

He had not meant to say that.

For a long moment, she watched him, frustration at his obstinacy very nearly, for one moment, over-riding her compassion.

She weighed her options, and she made her choice.

She tipped her chin back to look at him directly. "Then am I not your mother?" she asked.

He blinked at her, and he drew just a little back. Watching her, he was a child again. Unsteady, uncertain. Not so long ago, he had thought that he was never to see her again. She hoped to lever that weight against him. To _bring him back_.

Thickly, he swallowed. Then, raising his chin just barely in a kind of defiance he said, "You're not."

His eyes were hard and they brooked no lie.

She felt it with the force of a blow, and she would have caught breath but for her own pride. Her own pride that made her mask the pain behind a smile.

Her own pride, perhaps, that was not so unlike his.

His mask faltered and he glanced down.

And it came to her that the greatness of her pain, hearing him speak what she had always known as fact, was nothing to that which he must have felt, to hear it without warning, those years ago.

And he was only still so little more than a child.

"Always so perceptive," she murmured, drawing for the first time truly near to him, lifting her palms like a supplication, begging him to understand, "about everyone but yourself."

He watched her with all the defiance gone, his mouth pressed tight and thin and his eyes nearly black in their hopelessness. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked away, he looked down. She didn't notice his hand as it moved to touch her own.

Her hold on the illusion shivered, and Frigga would have spoken. For one desperate moment, she wanted to communicate to him the depth of her love for him, and how much _more_ she wished for him than this. But his touch had taken her voice, and there was nothing more she could do but watch as he realized her trick. She saw him look down. She saw the furious, despairing tears that gathered in his eyes.

Blinking her own away, she came to herself before the brazier she had used to reach him.

His image still showed in the flamed before her. She wanted so much more for her son than this.

Casting aside her tears, Frigga turned from the empty flames. She would come back to him when she could. Returning to him now would only muddle what little she might have imparted to him.

The sun glinted on the surface of the lake without, and somewhere, a bird trilled. Drawing a deep breath of the fresh air, Frigga stilled the fractious swirling of her heart.

She was a queen. A mother. _AllMother_. Defeat was not in her nature.

Gathering her skirts in both hands, Frigga moved toward the light.

* * *

 **THE END**


End file.
